Intentions of the Heart
by Batman's Bombshell
Summary: To understand another's actions we must first learn the intentions behind them. Babe love story. Warning: Adult language and themes.
1. Author's Note

*_peeks out from behind computer screen_*

Alright people… _please_ refrain from pelting me with rotten fruit while I explain. I _realize_ that this story has been stagnant for _far_ too long. Let's just say that my personal life prevented me from writing during that time.

Oh, and as far as I'm concerned, 2010 _never_ _happened_. So unless you _want_ to see me foaming at the mouth, lifting my leg and barking like a dog… I wouldn't mention it in my presence. _Ever_.

Like Stephanie, I am totally _happy_ to live in Denial-land. So, feel free to visit me here sometime. It's _fabulous_ this time of year and I'll be sure to treat you with a Mojito and _possibly_ (if you're _lucky _**and** I'm not feeling like a greedy bitch) a certain _ravishing_ Cuban cabana boy ;)

_Good news-_ I _will_ continue and finish, Intentions of the Heart.

_Bad news_- In order to do so, I am completely revamping the entire story from start to finish. I lost touch with the story and needed to do so in order to finish it.

Soooo, if you are interested in following along with the _new and improved_ version of I.O.T.H, you'll notice that it is now written in past tense, the dialogue has been re-worked and some juicy little tidbits have been added.

If not… well, that's _fine_. I have a filthy, lint-covered "cupcake" with your name on it ;) (Ha! Can I get an "_AMEN_", Babes?)

Kidding… _sort of_.

For those of you who reviewed my story during my extended stay at the _Purgatory Hotel_… _**thank you**_. (Btw, the accommodations there _definitely_ left something to be desired) I would have responded to each of you personally before now but in the mood I was in, it probably would have read like something out of the 'Exorcist'… and that would have just been _awkward_ for everybody. Trust me.

Now, without further adieu, I _bring to you_… **Intentions of the Heat** (Take-Two :)

Annnndddd… cue rotten fruit.


	2. Living A Lie

_**Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns all rights to the following characters. This story is intended only as artistic exercise and I am in no way profiting financially from it.**_

_**Warning: This story contains adult themes and language. Babe story.**_

_**Intentions of the Heart**_

_**Chapter 1: Living a Lie**_

_Ranger ..._

I sat staring out the windows of the hotel lounge, too lost in thought to really appreciate the breathtaking view of the city below. The skyline shimmered dramatically; dancing with the glittering neon lights of downtown Washington's nightlife.

I swirled the drink in my hand, sending the mint leaves spinning in the icy liquid and raised the glass to my lips; welcoming the tingle of mint and the slow burn of rum as it warmed my belly. The Mojito's familiar flavor washed over me like the comfort of home and my wary body eagerly indulged in the soothing sensation. I knew that I wouldn't find peace at the bottom of my glass, but I still hoped that the alcohol would take effect quickly; working its way through my system; mercifully clouding my thoughts and easing the tension that seemed to be gnawing a hole in my chest.

It was like slowly waking from a horrible nightmare; my mind frantically sifting through the foggy haze of illusion and reality. I spent _three months_ in the underbelly of some Godforsaken country. Walking that unforgiving terrain was no better than scaling the fiery pits of Hell itself, a blazing inferno of blistering heat, punishing winds and scorching sun.

I took another long pull from my glass; desperate to drown the memories of that fucking wretched sandbox from my mind.

It took seven days to complete the debriefing process; the "suits" in D.C. clearly more concerned with covering their tracks than bringing home their own men left rotting in enemy soil. _Fucking suits._ _Fucking traitors_. How could they deny their fallen countrymen the honor they deserved? How could they not see that _one _soldier's life was far more valuable than ten of their worthless political puppets? _Men, _if they dared to call themselves that, groomed in the fine art of elegant speech and deception; nothing more than charismatic _con-artists_ who preached of peace while ordering war.

I struggled to find myself in the days following a mission, to separate the man from the soldier and transition back into my civilian lifestyle; though, I merely exchanged the battle field for modern urban warfare. Each time I fought to reign in the monster, an alter ego so vicious and calculating that it had almost become its own separate entity; a hunter who tracked and killed without emotion or remorse, capable of committing the darkest of sins to eliminate the greatest of evils from the earth. I could only hope that the good that came from my actions would absolve me from the blood on my hands…

The barstool next to mine squealed across the glossy wood floor, the sound breaking through my reverie as a leggy blonde folded herself gracefully onto the seat. I avoided her predatory gaze, choosing instead to watch her in the reflection of the windows. Her gold, sequined dress glistened under the florescent lights, the dazzling fabric plunging dangerously deep into the valley of her breasts. She crossed her long legs seductively, the hem of her short dress riding up to the tops of her thighs as she brushed the pointed toe of her stiletto slowly up the length of my calf.

I wasn't shocked by her boldness. In fact I was surprised that it took her so long to approach me. She'd been all but devouring me with her gaze since she walked into the room an hour before. Perhaps she'd been so confident in her striking looks and compelling charm that she'd been merely bidding her time for me to take notice of her and inevitably make the first move. Little did she know that was _never_ going to happen.

I took another sip from my glass and continued to ignore her presence. I'd met a thousand of her kind before; nothing but a gorgeous face, an empty, shameless beauty on the prowl for monetary gain and creature comforts. A woman so hardened by her past, so spoiled by her own vanity, so consumed with greed and entitlement that no amount of glitz and glamour could hide the ugliness that lurked beneath the mask.

Frustrated by my inattention she trailed her fingertips down my forearm to my hand, her breasts pressing against my bicep as she leaned in closely to me. "Hmm… tasty," she purred, her breath tickling the skin on my neck and sending goose bumps cascading down my spine. "I'll have whatever _he's_ having," her words were meant for the bartender but her eyes never left my profile. She molded herself against my side, and I was wrapped in the delicious heat that radiated from her body.

Her scent was intoxicating; my senses bathed in the exotic mixture of floral and spice that was distinctly feminine and incredibly sexy. Her fingers lingered on my hand as she traced the rim of my wine glass with a single, perfectly manicured, blood-red nail.

My eyes followed the line of creamy, flawless skin up her arm, along her collarbone to the matching shade of red painting her full lips. She smiled wickedly as I finished my appraisal and ours eyes finally met, "See something you like?" she breathed, tracing her crimson lips with the tip of her tongue. I almost expected it to be forked the way she was twisted around me, eerily reminiscent of a snake coiling around its unsuspecting prey.

She was beautiful, stunning really … but she's wasn't enough. They never were anymore. Several years before then I would have pursued her advances, craving the high of losing myself in the satiny skin and heady warmth of a desirable woman; _any _desirable woman for that matter. They were all interchangeable, expendable… forgettable, but as I looked at her, my mind's eye subconsciously transformed her sleek golden locks into soft chestnut curls, her chocolate eyes seemed to melt into the most brilliant azure depths…

_Stephanie_

"I'm not interested," I responded bluntly, my tone clipped and harsher than intended, though I felt no remorse for my rudeness. I was in no mood to play her games. I was unaffected and unimpressed, and the temporary distraction she offered wasn't worth the guilt, no matter how unwarranted the feeling may have been.

I watched as her eyes narrowed and her smile faltered momentarily, stunned and confused by my blatant refusal. She was a woman who knew the power she held over men and my reaction was definitely not what she had anticipated. But something changed in her expression as she searched my face and a knowing smirk spread across her scarlet lips. "Relax, Handsome. I'm sure a man like you has a pretty little thing warming your bed at home. I'm only looking for _one night_, and you look like you could use the company." Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and her eyes darkened with lust and the thrill of an unexpected challenge. _She thought I was teasing her…_

"You're wasting your time."

She laughed; a husky, naughty sound that screamed of sex and sinful pleasure, "I can make you forget all about her. You'll _never_ be with another woman again without thinking of _me_." She dropped her hand to my thigh, raking her fingernails towards my lap and making my stomach clench involuntarily.

I brushed her hand away and chuckled darkly, remembering a time when I had made a similar promise, not realizing that my threat was a double-edged sword, and that I too would share the consequences of that night.

And now … _she_ owned me, heart and soul. Like a child's most prized possession, her name was etched into my very being; marking me, claiming me as her own. My entire being was dedicated to a woman who didn't even belong to me, but it didn't matter, my love and loyalty were hers alone. I had spoken the words that sent her into the arms of another man; a masochistic means of punishing myself for who I am, for what I've done, and for what I could never have. There were times that I cursed myself for the life that I had chosen, never realizing what I would have had to give up in the process. But I couldn't change the past, and I refused to plague her future with the demons that haunted me.

And yet I was utterly devoted to her, unwilling to betray the unspoken vows that my heart and soul had professed; a bond that transcended word or ceremony, a love destined to remain unrivaled … and unrequited.

"Trust me … there is _nothing_ you can offer that would even compare."

I watched the woman's beautiful face twist into a jaded sneer, her lips pursing haughtily as she hissed, "You have no idea what I have to _offer_. But, tonight when you're _all alone_ in your fancy hotel room, you'll be wondering exactly what you're missing." She slid from her chair in a huff, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder as she stormed towards the exit, the clicking of her heels echoing behind her as she fled the room.

"Unlikely," I muttered to myself. And, it was true. I knew _exactly_ what I was missing and it had nothing to do with the shallow, vapid bitch that walked out the door.

I looked across the bar and spotted Sergeant Cooper watching the exchange in amusement, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "Christ, Manoso, I haven't seen someone denied that ruthlessly since high school!" He tipped his head back and laughed drunkenly, wobbling slightly on his bar stool. The top two buttons of his wrinkled shirt were undone, the cuffs rolled up carelessly to mid-forearm. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his movements clumsy in his obviously inebriated state.

We'd served over a dozen missions together, each witnessing the toll that they taken on the other; though, we knew very little about one another outside of active duty, both men of few words, who guarded our private lives protectively.

I shrugged, unfazed by my callous rejection of the nameless woman. She wasn't the first, nor would she be the last to have her inflated ego wounded by my lack of interest.

"You should've invited me to the wedding, asshole," he chided loudly. "I'd have loved to have met the woman who could make _any man _turn down a smokin' piece of ass like _that_."

_What the fuck?_ "No, I'm not-"

"Good for you, bro," he slurred, cutting me off mid-sentence. "If I hadn't been such a fucking coward then I'd be right there with ya." His mood soured quickly, the confession leaving a haunted look on his normally stoic face. He motioned for the bartender to refill his glass of whiskey, as if the dozen empty shot glasses that lined the bar in front of him weren't enough to quench his thirst. He lifted the glass shakily to his lips, the amber liquid drizzling sloppily down his chin as he drained the remainder of its contents.

"But, I let her go," he growled as he slammed the glass a little too roughly down onto the bar, "_Biggest_ mistake of my life." He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, his hooded, blood-shot eyes meeting mine."I saw her a few days before we shipped out and I could see it, you know? I could _see_ it in her eyes that she _still_ loves me…"

I stared back at his anguished expression and searched for any trace of the fearless soldier I had known. But there was none, in that moment he was reduced to nothing more than a broken man making a drunken confession.

I looked away and shifted uncomfortably; the unbidden glimpse into his personal life felt perversely invasive and voyeuristic. I knew that the alcohol was to blame for loosening his usually silent tongue and that he would regret the conversation the next day, but before I could voice my thoughts he steam rolled on.

"I thought she'd find a better man; someone that she loves more than she ever loved me. I would have accepted that, hell I almost _expected_ it to happen!

You know how it is, Manoso... Men like us… we've got a lot of fucking scars; too many skeletons, and because of that I never felt worthy of her. I didn't want her to waste her time on someone like me, but knowing that she still belongs to me while she shares her life with another man is just… _unbearable_."

The bartender frowned disapprovingly as Cooper signaled him for another round but wisely refilled his glass without a word. Cooper wasn't a man to take "_no_" for an answer and the bartender had enough self preservation to sense that. Cooper threw his head back and downed the shot, too drunk and numb to wince from the after burn.

"Lord knows I wanna kill the bastard who took her from me… but, Christ, he didn't even _take_ her… I fucking gave her away! But still… the thought of _him_ touching her, loving her… fuck it makes me wanna…" he grit his teeth and the dark look that flashed through his eyes was chilling. "But as much as I'd like to… I just _can't_ do that to _her_. She doesn't deserve that. I chose this life and the choices _I made_ forced her to take another path."

We sat in silence for a moment, each lost in our own miserable thoughts of love and loss. Cooper swayed on his seat and I almost wished he'd just pass out already and slip into the temporary nothingness that only drunken oblivion could provide. It would have been a relief for us _both_. I didn't want to hear anymore, his pain was too potent; his words hitting too close to home and opening bitter wounds of my own.

"She's pregnant," he choked, strangled with emotion and I could have sworn that his eyes misted over. "That _bastard_… he doesn't… I should have… It was supposed to me God damnit! _MY_ wife, _MY_ baby, _MY FUCKING_ LIFE!"

His lips continued moving, but I couldn't hear his words. My ears were ringing, the room was spinning and I felt like the air had been sucked from my lungs. The thought of Stephanie, _MY Babe_, swollen with another man's child sent a wave of nausea crashing over me; a tangible connection, a part of her shared with him that would seal the bond between them forever. I swallowed the bile in my throat as my mind conjured images of _their_ future, of _their_ family and I couldn't suppress a growl as the Cop's face flitted through mind. _His hand resting possessively on her rounded belly, a triumphant smile splitting his face as he raises her left hand and kisses the modest diamond nestled on her finger, her beautiful eyes staring up at him with trust and love…the look she once reserved for me…_

I felt robbed and violated by the intrusive thoughts and was seized with a pain more intense than the worst form of torture I had ever known; a burning ache that time and distance had no power to heal.

My hands were shaking by the time Cooper's voice broke through my internal musings. "I congratulated her, told her that I was _happy_ for her." He snorted in disgust, spitting the word like the filthy lie that it was. He eyed the cemetery of empty glasses, willing the liquid to spontaneously refill as the bartender feigned ignorance to his unspoken request. "What the hell did she expect me to say?" He threw his hands up in exasperation and shook his head in defeat.

"I didn't even see it coming before she _slapped_ me, fucking screamed in my face in the middle of the street. _How dare you say that to me? I have to live a lie for the rest of my life… settle for something… for __**someone**__ I never wanted because __**you**__ were too damn stubborn to let me make my own choices!"_

I didn't even know what to say to her. How do I even respond to that? And, maybe she was right? I had convinced myself that it was for her own good; that my sacrifice was to _protect her_. But now … I'm not sure anymore. Maybe I pushed her away because I was a fucking coward? Maybe I was too afraid that she would find out who I really am, what I've _done_ … and then walk away? Maybe I _hurt_ her to protect _myself?_"

My heart clenched painfully as I was forced to come to terms with the truth behind my own actions; brought to my knees and stripped bare of my own feeble rationalizations. The overwhelming regret that weighed down upon me was suffocating and I struggled to catch my breath.

"And now it's like living with a ghost, man. Her clothes are in my closet, her pictures on my wall, everywhere I go, everything I see, reminds me of _her_. **Her** touch, **her** laugh, **her** scent … and as pathetic as it sounds, I can't bring myself to change a _damn thing_ … it's all I have left."

I couldn't' help but stare as his face crumpled in agony, horrified yet morbidly fixated on the man before me; like the burning wreckage on the side of the road that you just _can't_ peel your eyes away from. A bubbling panic boiled over inside of me, and I knew in that moment that I would do _anything_ to escape his fate. I fumbled with my wallet, threw down a few bills onto the bar and rushed towards the exit.

I'd never been a religious man, I'd seen _far _too many evils in my life to be a true believer; but in that moment I sent up a silent prayer to any Deity who might show mercy to the lost, humbled sinner I'd become…

"Please… _please_ don't let me be too late."

I didn't know what awaited me in Trenton but the possibilities were terrifying. _Three months_ could have changed _everything_… nothing… hell, I didn't know _wha_t to expect. All I knew was that I had wasted far too much precious time and that I would fight for her, _for us, _with everything I had.


	3. False Pretenses

_**Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns all rights to the following characters. This story is intended only as artistic exercise and I am in no way profiting financially from it.**_

_**Warning: This story contains adult themes and language. Babe story.**_

_**Intentions of the Heart**_

_**Chapter 2: False Pretenses**_

Previously:

Ranger…

I didn't know what awaited me in Trenton but the possibilities were terrifying. _Three months_ could have changed _everything_… nothing, hell I didn't know _what_ to expect. All I knew was that I had wasted far too much precious time and that I would fight for her, _for us, _with everything I had.

_Three months prior…_

_Stephanie… _

I don't know how long I laid awake in the dark, swaddled in a cocoon of cotton and _still_ failing to find comfort in their warmth. My wild curls tumbled across the pillow beneath my head, spilling into a rippling sea of chestnut as I peeked out into the night from the safety of my covers.

When I was a little girl I was _petrified_ of the monster that _surely _hid beneath my bed. I smiled despite myself as I remembered the nights that I slept with my tiny feet tucked beneath my little body, afraid that my toes would be _nibbled_ _on_ if they strayed too close to the edge.

Sometimes I wished I could go back to those carefree days of my childhood, when my only fear was just a harmless product of an overactive imagination. _Real life, _I had learned,was filled with much scarier things than make believe.

I stared blindly into the dark for what felt like an _eternity_, the stillness of my body in stark contrast with the whirling pace of my mind. I never understood why life's problems seemed so much worse at night, like a force that fed and grew on the stillness of those quiet twilight hours. While the world slept, I tossed and turned restlessly, exposed and vulnerable to my own wayward thoughts.

Sleep had always been a favorite escape of mine. It was all too easy to drift away in peaceful slumber, leaving my problems to conquer another day. But sleep eluded me then, the hurt and anxiety that bubbled within me wouldn't allow such a gracious reprieve. My self-defense mechanism had finally failed me, and I had _never_ felt more helpless and alone.

As if on cue, the locks tumbled and I knew, without looking at the clock, that it was a quarter past midnight. I closed my eyes, feigning sleep, listening for any sound of my visitor; but his movements were as silent as the morning fog, slowly creeping along, unseen and undeterred. Though I _knew_ when he was near, the tingles on the back of my neck betrayed him, announcing his noiseless presence.

Ranger had been distant and withdrawn for several months prior to that night, the time frame correlating with my most recent break up from Morelli. I had harbored a secret desire to pursue a _real_ relationship with Ranger, to allow our friendship to progress naturally into something _more_. But the more I pushed, the further he pulled away, and the rejection was _crushing_. I mourned the loss of the man who stood mere feet from where I pretended to sleep. But unlike mourning a death, I held no hope of closure or eternal perspective to grant me the acceptance to heal. Instead my love for him lived on, and my heart withered and died a little bit more each day.

On the rare occasion that we were alone together our conversation was formal and strained; playful banter and stolen kisses exchanged for calculated indifference and awkward moments. It hurt _so_ much to have him so close, yet so far away. I had never felt so much pain and loss over _any _relationship, let alone one that never _really_ had been. It felt as though I was losing a part of myself, the future that I would have given _anything_ for … and worst of all, my best friend.

Yet, his late night visits had become a daily routine. Every night he sat in the chair opposite of my bed until dawn, his silent presence resonating throughout the room. In the beginning, every night was the same; he would sit quietly, content to keep his distance. But then his visits changed. He became bolder, more brazen and almost desperate in those quiet moments. When he thought that I was asleep and unaware he would kneel next to my bed, whispering in Spanish, his voice rough and low and heartbreakingly tender. I couldn't understand his words, but his tone and timber was so laced with love that it told me all that I needed to know.

I desperately wanted to ask him what he was saying, to _force_ him to admit his feelings for me … but, I was scared; _terrified_ that if I confronted him he would never come back; and that I'd lose all that I had left of him.

That was _not_ a risk that I was willing to take.

That night had been a _disaster_; a culmination of months of living behind false pretenses finally came to a violent head. What started out as a typical distraction job turned into a _living nightmare_ … one that I would never forget...

The skip was charming and charismatic, the perfect combination to prey on unsuspecting women. I was nearly fooled by his carefully crafted façade, his laugh and smile seemingly genuine and inviting; though my instincts _screamed_ in warning and I battled the urge to recoil away from his dangerous touch.

I imagined that it was _Ranger's_ strong hands tracing the bare skin of my back, pulling me closer, running his fingers through the curls at the nape of my neck; a technique that I often used while "entertaining" a skip. I told myself that it was _only_ to make the job easier; to make my responses more natural... and, for the _most part_ that was true. But, that night I was so wrapped up in the illusion that I could almost hear Ranger's quiet laughter, a sound that I cherished above all others, a sound that grew rarer by the day.

As we danced the world seemed to fade away, and for a moment I lost myself in the warmth and strength of those foreign arms; like a defenseless lamb finding comfort in the jaws of a hungry wolf, I let his body wrap itself around my own. It had been _months_ since I had been held that way by a man and unthinkingly I melted into his touch. We swayed back and forth, the rhythm of our bodies keeping time with the beat of the music. I let my eyes drift shut, lost in images of smooth mocha colored-skin and deep chocolate eyes.

I shivered as warm lips traced the shell of my ear and wanted nothing more than for Ranger's voice to whisper all the things that my heart yearned to hear.

"My place or yours?"

I opened my eyes reluctantly, raising my head from where it was rested on his chest; my fantasy dissolving under the grating sound of the skip's voice. I looked over his shoulder, not wanting to look into the eyes of that soulless monster any longer than I had to.

I gasped quietly as my gaze locked with Ranger's. He was standing by the bar, the low lighting making him look every bit of the dark, mysterious man that he was. I was stunned by the raw emotion pouring from his eyes and I couldn't bring myself to look away. An unfathomable expression of sadness was clearly displayed on his handsome face and my eyes filled with tears as I looked at him; his pained expression mirroring my own. It was as if he had read my thoughts, and I was instantly ashamed of my weakness, of my desperate craving for his love and affection. I felt so fragile and transparent, as if at any moment I would crumble under the weight of his stare.

But, God, I _missed_ him; so much that I physically ached from the separation between us.

Ranger's jaw tightened as his gaze moved to the skip's mouth still whispering in my ear. I felt his large hand cup my jaw and yank my face roughly towards him; his lips crushing mine in a bruising kiss. I could sense the jealous edge behind his movements and I knew that it didn't escape him that my thoughts had strayed elsewhere. This was _not_ a man to be ignored.

I could almost _feel_ his control wavering, the false veneer slipping away to reveal the inhumane beast within. My skin crawled with disgust at our closeness and I prayed that he wouldn't feel the wetness on my cheeks or the frantic race of my heart as I fought to maintain my cover. I cringed as his free hand moved down my backside to the hem of my dress, slipping underneath to trail his fingers up the bare skin of my thigh.

I struggled to break free from his grasp, smiling as seductively as my nerves would allow; shaken by Ranger's intense stare and the skip's suddenly aggressive behavior. "Your place," I answered, as I tried to futilely to tug my dress back into place. He brushed my hand away roughly and moved his own back to the edge of my panties, undeterred by my obvious discomfort. I stifled the urge to scream and grabbed his hand through the thin silk of my dress, stalling his uninvited explorations. "Not here, baby," my voice trembled and I hoped that he would misinterpret my fear for breathless excitement.

He smiled sickly, and tightened his hold around my waist with his other arm. I felt his body respond perversely to my rejection of his advances, his eyes told me that "No" wasn't an option and that my resistance would only encourage him further. He_ liked_ his victims to fight, to struggle and I could see it in his eyes that he was feeding on my fear like the devil himself. My eyes flickered back to Ranger's, _willing_ him to see the naked terror hiding behind my own.

He must have gotten the message loud and clear because I watched as a tumultuous storm brewed in his nearly obsidian eyes; his hands clenched into fists, his body shaking with barely contained rage as he took a step towards us. I thought for a moment that he was going to blow our cover, rush forward to intervene and tear the skip's head from his shoulders; but, with the legendary control that _only_ Ranger seemed to possess, he took a deep, shuddering breath and faded back into the shadows.

"Change of plans."

I flinched slightly as Ranger's voice growled into my tiny, obscure earpiece. "Alpha team, _fall out_. _Babe_, the rally point is now at the **back** exit, I'll be waiting for you there." I held his gaze, nodding infinitesimally in acknowledgement. I was confused by the sudden change in apprehension strategy, the spontaneity not matching his typical formulated rigidity, but I knew better than to second guess his decisions.

"You're not a_ tease_, are you, baby?" the skip questioned, grinding his hips forcefully into my own. "It's _not nice_ to tease, you know." His hands gripped my hips tightly, _painfully_, in a twisted attempt to prove his dominance over me. "Maybe I'll have to _show_ _you_ what happens to naughty girls who like to play games?" He tried to keep his tone light and seductive but the undercurrent of hostility was anything but.

I bit my lip, hoping to disguise the grimace that threatened to spread across my face as a coy smile, "I'm _only_ a tease if I _don't_ follow through… and I _definitely _plan onfollowingthrough tonight, handsome. But, for what I have in mind we might want to go somewhere a little more… _private_."

The skip smiled darkly, looking absolutely _ravenous_, like a wild animal about to feast on a bloody, still-warm corpse. A chill shot down my spine as I thought of what he liked to do with a little _privacy; _an abandoned warehouse, a beautiful woman, a six foot stretch of rope and the crushing strength of his bare hands.

He took my elbow and yanked me none too chivalrously towards the front entrance and I stumbled in my four inch heels behind him. I could feel his impatience, his vile _need_ propelling him forward to his next fix.

I dug my heels into the ground, pulling back on his hand with all of my strength. He looked over his shoulder at me and narrowed his eyes into slits. He wouldn't be kept waiting any longer, he was too close to euphoria, he could _taste it_. "Problem?"

"_No!_ No problem," I lied, "but do you care if _I_ drive? I'm parked out back and I don't want to leave my car here over night. It's new, and I haven't had a chance to get the alarm installed yet..."

I could tell that he was intrigued by the prospect of the night's additional spoils. After all, according to _his plans, _the _only_ transportation I would need… _ever again_… was a single ride in the back of a Hearse.

"Sure, baby, whatever you want," he purred, hauling me up against his body and whispering into my ear, "I _can't_ wait to get you _alone_… you have _no idea_ what I'm gonna' do to you."

I was thankful that he didn't wait for me to respond before leading us through the crowd in the opposite direction. It was all I could do not to sprint though the door, screaming in my desperation to reach safety.

I followed him through the exit into the alleyway, squinting as my eyes adjusted to change of lighting. The door had barely clicked shut before the skip was slammed back into the building with shocking force. Ranger's hands wrapped around the man's throat tightly, his fingers curled like claws, digging into the tender flesh of his enemy's throat. The skip stared at Ranger with wide, bulging eyes, caught off guard by the unexpected attack as he struggled in vain to breathe.

Ranger leaned in closely to the stunned man, spitting venom through his teeth,"Si atockas a me vieha otra ves te mato!" * If you touch _my_ woman again, I'll _kill _you!*

Ranger's right arm pulled back before snapping forward repeatedly, in rapid succession, pounding his fist mercilessly into the skip's face and stomach, each blow rocking the man's body back into the brick wall he was pinned against. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth, spraying the asphalt beneath their feet in crimson colored rain.

I watched the scene in gruesome fascination, the horror of the moment taking on a nightmare-like quality. I was frozen in place, my legs heavy and seemingly cemented to the ground; unable to scream, scarcely able to breathe as the scene unfolded before me.

Ranger had always been the epitome of self control and restraint; every word, every action, carefully measured and deliberate. Seeing him _that_ way, so unbridled and violently savage was disconcerting. I stumbled forward with wide eyes, my hands covering my mouth in shock.

I finally understood why his men treated him with trepidation and cautious respect. When unleashed, he _truly_ was something to fear. It was like watching the awesome power of nature, uncontrollable, unpredictable and completely unstoppable.

To say that I was frightened would be a gross understatement. I was _terrified_ as I watched the situation quickly spin out of control. I knew that Ranger could easily kill that man, and honestly, the world would have been a better place without him, but I couldn't risk losing Ranger over that worthless, disgrace of a human being.

The skip's weight sagged unnaturally into the wall behind him, his eyes rolling back into his head as his mouth hung open limply; the whites of his eyes glowing under the reflection of street lights above.

"Ranger … _Ranger_! **Stop**! _Please!_ You'll _kill_ _him_!" I screamed hysterically,_ finally_ finding my voice. My words didn't seem to faze him though, and he continued his brutal assault. "God damnit, Ranger, _**STOP!**_ He's _dying!"_

A blur of black raced past me and obscured my vision as Tank and Lester grabbed Ranger from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. Ranger fought wildly against them as they struggled to contain him; his chest heaving with each ragged intake of breath.

"_Easy_, Rangeman," Tank whispered soothingly, "Bomber's right here. She's okay, she's _safe _now, Carlos."

I watched as the burning rage slowly dimmed from his eyes, rational thought finally eclipsing the animal instincts that had consumed him. He met my gaze, his body trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline that pumped through his system. He took several slow, calming breaths, his sharp eyes immediately scanning my body for any sign of injury.

He nodded to Tank and Lester in silent command to release him. They reluctantly did so, but never moved more than arms length away, and continued to watch him closely. I was thankful that they wouldn't allow him do anything that he would regret later on.

Bobby sprinted around the corner of the building with his medic kit in hand, his steps faltered and his eyes widened as he took in the macabre scene before him. "Whatthe _fuck _happened?" he sputtered, "We can't take him to the station like _this_! He's unconscious for God's sake!"

Bobby knelt over the skip's body that was slumped into an awkward heap on the pavement, his skilled hands probing the man's battered face and neck. "_Christ_ … you broke his fucking jaw, _Ranger_! How the _hell_ are we going to explain this …" his rant trailed off as his eyes met Ranger's cold orbs.

"Clean him up," Ranger growled in response. "I don't give a fuck _what_ you tell them, but if you want to deliver that sack of shit _alive_, you'd better get him the fuck away from me! NOW." Bobby nodded silently and dropped his eyes to the ground; clearly not wanting Ranger's focus to rest on him any longer.

"Yes, Sir."

"He's _lucky_ I didn't snap his _fucking neck_." Ranger hissed, popping his bloody knuckles as he glared murderously at the skip's unconscious form. "And if the _cops_ have a problem … they can take it up with _me_."

"Boss… I can take Bomber home… ya know, if you need a minute or _whatever_…" Lester offered cautiously.

Ranger finally looked at me then, taking my elbow gently in his grasp as he led me towards the Turbo. "I've got it, Santos. Just take care of this _mess_." Lester nodded and the rest of Ranger's men didn't bother to question him. They knew without a shadow of doubt that _I_ was safe in his presence. Even in his current state, Ranger touched me with careful tenderness. I knew that he would _never_ hurt me… well... _physically _at least_._

The ride to my apartment was filled with a heavy, oppressive silence, neither of us knowing where to begin, or what to say once a conversation was broached.

That night I saw a side of Ranger that he had fought so hard to conceal. A soldier, more machine than man, whose natural instincts and extensive training made him into a lethal weapon of war. I saw the darkest part of his being… and yet it changed _nothing_. I still loved him _completely_, the controlled businessman and the fierce warrior, the most refined aspects of his personality and the broken pieces. I realized in that moment that my love for him was unconditional, _regardless_ of what was buried in his past.

_I just didn't know how to tell him._

He led me up to my apartment, scanning each room meticulously before letting me enter. My heart shattered into a million pieces as he walked past me to the door, not even acknowledging my presence as he turned to leave.

I held in a sob as he paused with the doorknob in his hand, and I struggled to hold it together until he left. He dropped his head against the door, physical and emotional exhaustion etching lines of fatigue across his face. He stood like that for several long minutes, an internal war raging inside of him as he struggled to find the resolve to leave.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Babe," he finally whispered, "I _never_ wanted you to see me that way." The shame and regret that echoed through his voice was almost too painful to bear.

I closed the distance between us slowly, timidly resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Shhhh … Ranger, you have _nothing_ to be sorry for. It's _okay_. _No__ matter __**what**_I will **always**-"

"Stop … _please_ … I can't … _we_ **can't** do _this_," he croaked, nearly _begging_ as he flinched away from my touch.

I snatched my hand away from him as if it had been burned, words of love dying on my tongue. He wrenched open the door and walked out without looking back. I stumbled backwards into the wall, my legs suddenly unable to sustain my own weight. I slid bonelessly to floor, curling protectively around my aching heart, and sobbed.

The faint rustle of fabric startled me from my thoughts and brought my focus back to my dark bedroom and the presence of my silent visitor. I closed my eyes tightly and focused on keeping my breathing steady as he approached my bed. He knelt down beside me, gently brushing his lips across my temple, my hair, my neck; a whisper of a touch that was both heartbreakingly tender and bitterly sweet. A single tear rolled pitifully down my cheek, wetting my pillow and I prayed silently that he wouldn't notice my traitorous tears.

"Por favor perdoname. Yo diera todo para ser el hombre que usted merecerse ... Te amo mas queto sabreres. Espero que encuentre la felicidad. Adiós, el Bebé. " _*__**Please**__ forgive me. I would give __**anything**__ to be the man that you deserve ... I love you more than you'll ever know. I hope you find happiness. Goodbye, Babe.*_

He had spoken to me that way dozens of times before, but _this_ was _different_ somehow. His voice seemed to hold an unfamiliar quality to it, his tone ringing with the finality of a goodbye. My heart raced frantically in my chest, paralyzed with confusion and frightened by his ominous tenor.

He placed another lingering kiss to my cheek, breathing me in, as if it were the last time that he would ever have the opportunity to do so. I laid there crippled with panic as he rose to his feet, noiselessly exiting the room. My mind screamed for me to run to him, to _make_ him stay but I couldn't find the strength to move.

I immediately felt the loss of his presence, the last flicker of hope dwindling inside of me. I listened to the lock engage from outside of the front door, the faint "_click_" sounding like the piercing "CRACK" of a judge's gavel, sentencing me to a life of "_what might have been_."

I sat up frantically in bed, desperately clutching the sheet to my chest as my heart fluttered wildly. I had to do _something. _I just _couldn't_ let him go without a fight. I threw the covers off of my legs, and stumbled shakily towards the front door. I burst into the foyer, not bothering to shut the door behind me as I ran to the stairwell. I took the stairs two at a time, cursing my trembling legs for their slow pace as I descended to the main level.

I rushed out into the deserted parking lot, bare foot and shivering as the brisk morning air nipped at my exposed skin. I watched as the tail lights of the Turbo faded into the distance, my hopes and dreams fading away with them.

I stood there, frozen in place until the first rays of dawn stretched across the sky. I fell to my knees; a strangled sob escaping my quivering lips…

"I'm too late."

The next day he was gone, off on another impossible mission to save the world… Maybe being in love with a superhero wasn't all it was cracked up to be after all.

*Sooooo… Thoughts? Comments? Tissue, Anyone? : (

*Thanks for reading : ) I hope you enjoyed it. Btw, I got a whole bunch of PM's from people who weren't able to leave a review on ff. If you reviewed the chapters the first go around, you won't be able to leave another one _IF_ you are logged into ff. You _can_ leave a private review and if you sign it with your pen name then I can respond back to you. I just thought that might be easier than emailing me for those of you who wanted to review the new stuff as well. Thanks for the support : ) ~ Jen


	4. A Shimmering Mirage

_**Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns all rights to the following characters. This story is intended only as artistic exercise and I am in no way profiting financially from it.**_

_**Warning: This story contains adult themes and language. Babe story.**_

_**Intentions of the Heart**_

_**Chapter 3: A Shimmering Mirage**_

Previously:

Stephanie…

The next day he was gone, off on another impossible mission to save the world… Maybe being in love with a superhero wasn't all it was cracked up to be after all.

_Joe's POV …_

"_Plink … plink plink …. Plink."_

I listened to the rain splatter against the aluminum body of the car; the sound mingled with the squeaking of the windshield wipers as they brushed back and forth against the water-streaked glass. I stared at the ancient heap in contempt, _fucking department cutbacks_. I was sure that the TPD could have afforded something a _little_ classier than a _Cutlass_ for God's sake.

Granted, they _never_ would have splurged on something sporty like a BMW, or a Lexus, or… _a shiny,_ _black_ _Porsche…_

I stiffened, posturing a little. _Fucking_, Manoso . I wouldn't want to drive a frilly little _pussy_ car like that anyways. _Nope, _not me. I'd stick to the Cutlass, _thankyouverymuch_.

I mean, really, the car _may not_ have been fast or flashy… or even had all of its original parts. And, I'll admit that it was rusting _slightly…_ _and,_ it may, or may not have been missing several chunks of upholstery from the back seat...

_Bob_… that little _bastard_, like the wet dog smell wasn't bad enough? He just _had_ to chew holes in the seat cushions too? Though, in retrospect it _could_ have been that Swedish chic... _What was her name? Frida? Fredrika? Whatever, she was an absolute _animal…

_Either way_, at least _I_ _didn't_ have to leave my balls at the curb and carry a purse while driving _"Old Blue"._ No, sir, the Cutlass was a _man's_ car. _Maybe an eighty or ninety year old man with bunions and glaucoma, but a MAN nonetheless_. I gave the steering wheel a thump of masculine approval and watched the leather wrapped sphere split right down the seams.

_Jesus, who was I kidding?_

"Piece of shit," I cursed under my breath and stared out the window into the dismal Trenton weather. The bone chilling temperature and the gray, weeping clouds were a perfection reflection of my brooding mood.

I wiped the steam from the windshield with the sleeve of my shirt, and stared up at the windows of her apartment. The lights were turned off, but the flicker of the TV. played against her living room wall; strobing the room in light. I flipped the vents closed, the heater's once warm air now blowing cold in the long idling car.

_Just get it over with already._ I reached for the keys in the ignition, paused before dropping my hand back into my lap. And, for the fiftieth time that night, I _couldn't_ bring myself to get out of the car.

"_Fuck_," I groaned, leaning my head back against the headrest. I raked my fingers through my hair, trying to smooth the unruly chocolate wisps that curled around my ears and over the collar of my shirt. I made a mental note to get a haircut as I stared up at a tiny defect marring the roof's interior upholstery, my mind searching, as if I would find the answers to my problems woven into the flawed fabric. _Of course I wasn't so lucky._

I really, _really_ didn't want to be there... _not under those circumstances at least_.

I was _trying_ to move on. In all honesty I was failing miserably at it, but I _was_ trying all the same. Apparently, I was a glutton for punishment. Or, maybe I was just so _strung out_ on Stephanie Plum that I'd been _looking_ for an excuse to come back all along. But, that's what we did, right? We broke up, we made up, we fucked until dawn and then repeated the cycle.

I knew our relationship wasn't healthy, hell, it was almost toxic at times, but I just couldn't seem to resist falling back into the same old pattern with her. _Fucking junky._

I _should_ have been happy… or at least _relieved_ that it was over, that I wouldn't have to fight for her, or share her with another man anymore; that I wouldn't have to overhear the guys at the station take bets on whether or not _my girlfriend_ was fucking her boss behind my back anymore…but, I didn't feel relieved, and I _sure as hell_ wasn't happy.

I missed her. Even after all of the bullshit we'd put each other through… _I missed her. _A lot.

Fuck, I would've gagged down another peanut butter and olive sandwich, and watched Ghostbusters for the _millionth_ time just to spend a few more hours with her. And, believe me those were _desperate _measures.

I fucking _hated_ olives. Even the thought of them made me shiver. Seriously, I would've eaten the ass end out of a skunk before voluntarily choking one of those , as if they weren't disgusting enough on their own… she added _peanut butter_ into the mix. _Good Lord_… I couldn't fathom actually _wanting_ to eat that pig slop, but what was even more baffling was that I found her strange, slightly disturbing little cork to be… _endearing_.

I shook my head and sighed… _only, Stephanie._

I'd been with a hundred different women; beautiful, sexy, intelligent women; most of them out of my thoughts and desires before the sheets had turned cold. It was easy… _they_ were easy. No strings, no commitment, _no bullshit_. And, as callous as it may have been, I _preferred_ it that way; _happy _with my carefree life as an eternal bachelor…

And, then came, _Stephanie Plum.._.

And, suddenly I was envisioning family dinners and baseball games, camping trips and dance recitals, wedding rings and bassinets. I imagined how _our _children would look; a combination of my honey-colored skin and her beautiful azure eyes. I had our entire future mapped out for us… it was _right there_… and it would have been _perfect._

But, like an oasis in the desert, my dreams were merely a shimmering mirage of false hope … and, like a fool I chased after the illusion for years.

Christ, I was _still _chasing it… chasing _her_. Of all the women in the world, I just _had_ to fall in love with one who didn't love me back.

Karma truly was a _heartless_ _bitch_.

I looked over at her little piece of shit car and smiled despite my depressing thoughts. I knew she could have driven any one of Ranger's (questionably acquired) cars, but she _didn't_. She wanted to exert her independence, _even_ if it meant driving around in something held together with duct tape. I was glad too. Nothing pissed me off more than seeing her driving around town in one of the Rangeman fleet. It was hard to miss her; the man _always_ had someone tailing her. Christ, it looked like a fucking funeral procession every time she left her apartment building.

I decided right then and there that I absolutely_ loathed_ the color black.

Not as much as I loathed the man himself, of course, but close enough. Even the thought of that smug, poaching bastard made my blood boil. I'd never met another man who openly challenged me the way that he did… and I _hated_ him for it.

I _hated_ that I couldn't give her the things that he could. I _hated_ that I couldn't protect her the way that he could. I _hated_ that I couldn't make her _feel_ the way that he could...

I hated _everything_ about _him_.

I'd never been a jealous man, hell, I'd never had any reason to be. But, seeing the way that he looked at her… the way that _she_ looked at _him_… well, it brought out a lesser side of myself that I hadn't known existed.

In my desperation to keep her I became possessive and controlling, giving in to my fiery Italian temper and baser male instincts. She was _mine_ and my claim to her was being challenged. _How was I_ _supposed to react to that?_ Just step aside and let him take her from me without a fight? Wish them the best and then walk away?

_Not likely, Manoso._

For years we fought about the dangers of her job and her _association_ with questionable _"people"._ I couldn't understand why an untrained, unskilled woman would willingly place herself in such dangerous situations.

I _promised_ to take care of her, financially and otherwise, but it was never enough. I told myself that her resistance to let me provide for her was only because of her fiercely independent nature; that she _had_ to prove herself to everyone around her. I didn't want to admit the truth to myself. Deep down I knew what… or rather _who_ drove her to stay in such a dangerous profession.

I guess it was just easier to live in denial than to accept the fact that she _couldn't_ commit to me, because she _wouldn't_ severe ties with _him_.

A sharp "rap" on the passenger side window startled me from my musings; making me jump in my seat. I recovered quickly and leaned across the center console, cursing my relic of a car and its prehistoric manual windows.

"Can I help you?"

"You gonna sit out here all night, _boy_?" Mr. Walker hunched over to growl disapprovingly through the crack in the window, an umbrella clutched in his warped, arthritic hand. "This ain't no Park N' Sleep, Son. Get _out_ or get _movin'_." He narrowed his eyes, daring me to challenge him; the loose skin on his pale, bony face shaking with elderly tremors as he fixed me with his death glare.

_Jesus, no wonder little kids were scared shitless of old people. He looked exactly like the Reverend Kane from the Poltergeist for Hell's sake._ "Yes, Sir, I was just on my way inside," I assured the decrepit old man, feeling like a scolded twelve year old who had the _audacity_ to step foot on his perfectly manicured lawn.

Mr. Walker eyed me suspiciously from underneath his black coachman's hat, clicking his dentures with his tongue before turning to leave. "Damn _kids_, loiterin' around at all hours of the night," he shook his head in disapproval as he shuffled towards the building on rickety legs. "Boy looks like _trouble_ if you ask me. Lord knows nothin' good ever happens after dark…"

I rolled up the window and folded myself out of the car as quickly as my stiff legs would allow. I didn't want to risk another run in with Mr. Walker and his trusty umbrella. He might have been way, _WAY _past his prime but he looked like a man who'd fight dirty.

Besides, I'd stalled long enough.

I ran for the shelter of the apartment complex, dodging as many puddles as I could along the way. Not that it mattered. My shoes were soaked and squeaked noisily against the linoleum floor as I crossed the foyer to the elevator.

All too soon I stood outside of her door, torn between my desire to see her and the urge to run like hell. _Had the elevator always been that fast?_ I ran a hand through my hair and straightened my clothes, hoping that I looked at least somewhat presentable… hey, maybe she'd see something she liked…

_A guy could dream, right? _

I knocked twice, and shifted from foot to foot nervously as I waited. I started to panic slightly when she didn't answer, I at least expected a, "Go to Hell, Morelli!" if she didn't want to let me in, but I didn't hear a sound coming from the other side of the door… just _silence_. I pulled the keys out of my pocket, sifting through them to find her spare key still hanging on my keychain. I didn't want to think about it possibly being the last time I would ever use it.

I opened the door slowly, unsure of what I would find on the other side. The apartment looked like the aftermath of a frat party; the floor littered with a collection of empty pizza boxes and toppled beer bottles. The smell of alcohol hung heavily in the air, further evidence of her week long bender. She was bundled up on the couch asleep with her wild curls spilling out over the armrest and one leg dangling limply over the edge of the cushion.

I shook my head and made my way through the debris towards her, sitting on the edge of the couch near her feet; the cushion dipped under my weight, waking her from sleep.

"Hey," I smiled, feeling a tug on my heart strings as she opened her sleepy blue eyes. _Christ, she was beautiful._

Looking at her, sitting in her little apartment, brought back so many memories. The little things that I took for granted were the ones that hurt the most to remember; the warmth of her smile, the bubbling sound of her laughter, the way her eyes would darken from crystal-clear, Caribbean pools to deep, Atlantic waters when making love. I'd been trying to avoid this, _remembering_, the heartache that followed was unbearable. But, I couldn't suppress the flood of memories that washed over me; every touch, every kiss, every moment, battering my senses like waves crashing into the shore, slowly eroding my defenses.

I watched as her eyes widened with hope, and then crumpled in disappointment, clearing wishing that I were someone else… "_Someone,"_ that for my own sanity I refused to name. I forced the smile to remain on my lips, hoping that the strained expression didn't reveal how much her reaction had hurt me.

_But, God, it hurt. _

"Oh… hey, Joe," she smiled sadly, blinking the sleep from her puffy, red eyes. I could see that she'd been crying and that knowledge filled me with a white, hot rage. During all the years that I had known Stephanie, I had seen her angry, (belligerent, screaming, Italian hand-gesturing- angry). I'd seen her defiant and stubborn, I'd seen her sulky and indifferent… but, I had _never_ seen her cry.

And, I wanted to hurt the _fucker_ behind those tears.

A cruel thought wormed its way to the forefront of my mind. _Maybe, I had never seen her cry because she'd never cared enough about me, or our relationship to shed a single tear... _

I quickly banished that repulsive notion, unwilling to acknowledge what that realization would have implied.

She wiggled her way up to a sitting position on the couch next to me, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn. The fleece blanket that was wrapped around her slipped down her chest, pooling in her lap and my eyes were immediately drawn to the _Rangeman_ logo embroidered across the breast of her shirt; taunting me like a sea of red to a raging bull.

I clenched my jaw closed tightly, grinding my teeth together in an effort to swallow the nasty words burning the tip of my tongue. The black shirt was massive on her, the sleeves hanging below her elbows and the hem ending at mid-thigh, _much_ too large for her small frame...

She was wearing_ his_ shirt and it took all of the strength and control that I had not to tear it from her body, shredding the evidence of his claim to her.

Fucking, _Manoso_, only _he_ could torture me from thousands of miles away. I took a deep, calming breath, forcing my gaze away from the offensive garment. Yep, I fucking _hated_ the color black… especially on her.

"So …," she pressed, obviously waiting for an explanation for my impromptu visit.

I cringed slightly, thinking that there had been a time when I didn't _need _a reason to be there with her._ I didn't want to have to have a reason…_

"I was just wondering why I wasn't invited to the party?" I teased, shaking my head in mock sadness as I gestured towards the squalor around us. "I mean, I know I'm a _cop_ and all, and, people typically try to _avoid_ having us at social functions… but, still, an invite _would_ have been nice."

"Oh," she blushed, "yeah, you didn't miss out on much. Believe me…you wouldn't have wanted to be here for my one woman-pity party anyways. It was a… _rough_ night."

"A rough_ night_?" I repeated incredulously, "_Cupcake_ … you haven't left your apartment in a _week_! Your mom asked me to stop by and check on you. She said that you haven't been over for dinner or returned her any of her calls… she's worried about you … we _all_ are."

When Helen asked me to check in on Stephanie, I hesitated. I mean, I would have done just about _anything_ for Stephanie, but, comforting her over _him_… well, that was _a lot_ to ask of me. But, in the end, I couldn't say no. It seemed that I couldn't say "no" to anything when Stephanie was involved. I just hoped that I could keep my cool…

I'd heard about the little scene at the bar the week before. I was still furious that he would put her in that situation._ I_ tried to protect her while _he_ led her to slaughter; like a fucking sacrificial lamb… just for him to make a dollar. And, yet she trusted him? _I just didn't get it_. She was probably traumatized over the things she saw that night, and yet, where was he now when she needed him? Exactly where I knew he would be.._. _

_Gone. _

Her eyes filled with tears, the salty moisture rolling pitifully down her cheeks, her lower lip trembling as she tried to gain the composure to speak. "I know, I'm _sorry_ … I've just felt so lost. I … _I love him_, Joe."

_Fuck_. I'd waited years to hear her say those words, and when she_ finally_ did they were said in relation to another man. Digging my heart from my chest with a rusty spoon would've been less painful than that. I didn't know what to say to her… I _couldn't_ have said anything even if I'd wanted to. It was all I could do not to burst into tears like a fucking baby.

She sucked in a shaky breath, clutching at her chest as if she might fall to pieces if she didn't hold herself together. "But, I just _can't_ live like this anymore." She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling with each gut wrenching sob.

I always knew that it would come to _this_, that he would break her heart and run, and I warned her of it, _time and time_ again.

Regardless, I hated to see her like that and I couldn't resist comforting her. _She needed me._ I pulled her to my chest, wrapping my arms around her and burying my face in her curls. I never thought that I would hold her like that again, and I relished in the moment brought to me courtesy of the "_man in black"._

The raw, emptiness in my chest seemed to fade away with her closeness. This was the way things should have been. _This was right.._.

As I held her, a familiar mirage loomed on the horizon and I wondered if maybe… it _wasn't_ really over, maybe without _his_ constant interference we'd finally get a fair shot at being together, maybe she'd see how perfect we were for each other… maybe, _just maybe_, I wasn't too late.

Thoughts? Comments? I'd love to hear your input : )

I thought it was only fair that Joe have his say about the whole sordid love triangle. This is just my perception of his character and their on again, off again relationship.

Thanks for reading and reviewing,

Jen


	5. Incentive to Survive

_**Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns all rights to the following characters. This story is intended only as artistic exercise and I am in no way profiting financially from it.**_

_**Warning: This story contains adult themes and language. Babe story.**_

_**Intentions of the Heart**_

_**Chapter: 4 Incentive to Survive **_

Previously:

Joe…

I never thought that I would hold her like that again, and I relished in the moment brought to me courtesy of the "_man in black"._

The raw, emptiness in my chest seemed to fade away with her closeness. This was the way things should have been. _This was right.._.

As I held her, a familiar mirage loomed on the horizon and I wondered if maybe… it _wasn't_ really over, maybe without _his_ constant interference we'd finally get a fair shot at being together, maybe she'd see how perfect we were for each other… maybe, _just maybe_, I wasn't too late.

_**** 1 month into the mission … ***_

_Ranger's POV …_

We'd been waiting for hours, hunkered down in the sand under the cover of a thin camouflage net. We were lying prone with our weight supported on our elbows, watching our objective through the scopes of our assault rifles.

I wiped my brow with the back of my hand, the mingled sweat and sand scraping painfully across my sunburned flesh. Our skin, boiling hot under the heavy material of our desert Ghillie suits, felt as though it would slough away from our bones at any moment, like the unsheathing of overcooked meat.

_I hated that fucking desert._

I scanned the horizon through narrowed eyes, the sun reflecting blindingly off of the sand; the visible heat waves in the distance making the desert look like the rolling tide of a vast beige sea and I wanted nothing more than a _cold glass of water_.

A fiery burst of wind whipped around us blowing grains of dirt into our eyes and mouths, the particles sticking to the perspiration on our war-painted necks and faces like sugar poured over wet skin. I reached for the half empty canteen at my side, blinking the grit from my eyes as the stale, warm liquid drizzled onto my parched lips.

I wanted a raise… and a paid vacation_… to Alaska. _Hell, at that point I would have settled for a cold shower and fucking snow cone.

"Ya'll don't talk much, do ya?"

I turned to look at the man next to me with a raised brow and an expression that clearly said, "What the fuck do you think?"

He met my gaze and shrugged unaffectedly, perfectly content with our one sided conversation and the sound of his own voice. _Which, I'll admit was entertaining enough all on its own._

"That's ah-ite, I reckon I talk 'nuff fer the both of us."

_Yeah? No shit._

The man had barely paused to breathe over the last twelve hours. It seemed to be his way of staying alert and focused on _anything_ other than the extreme heat. He spoke in hushed whispers about everything and _nothing_; mindless chatter that I _tried_ to tune out… he could have rivaled Stephanie on a stakeout _any day._

_Thank God he didn't fidget with candy wrappers and moan while eating too._

I let _her_ get away with it because she's a woman… _a fucking hot woman, _and I would've had to be dead…_ and probably castrated,_ to put a stop to _anything_ that resulted in her moaning while licking frosting from her lips.

_It was the sweetest kind of torture._

_Was it normal to be jealous of a pastry? _Because, I_ was. _In fact, in my next life I wanted to be reincarnated as one giant _Tasty Cake_.

Unfortunately for my companion, his five o'clock shadow, raspy tenor and unruly chest hair didn't afford him the same leniency. One moan from him, _anywhere near my vicinity_, and it would have been his last.

"_He"_ was Marshall Crawford, a new member to our Special Ops. Unit and my spotter for the mission. He was a backwoods, southern boy with an easy smile, a slow drawl, and a healthy appetite for food and women.

_Based on his current topic of choice I surmised that he didn't have particularly great taste in either. _

"I ain't kiddin' neither. Bitch was meaner than a snake... legs so skinny she looked like she was ridin' 'round on a chicken. But, boy, I'll tell you what, ain't _nobody_ got a tongue like that woman. Whew-wee! Girl's got a mouth like a drive through car wash!"

_Jesus, maybe Lester had relatives from the bayou… _

For all Crawford lacked in social graces he made up for in talent. He learned to shoot at a young age out of sheer necessity, and over time the combination of need and natural ability created an incredible marksman.

His family had been poor… _dirt poor,_ and his sharp eyes and steady hands helped to put food on their otherwise sparsely filled table. A failed shot meant a long night of hunger pangs and a house full of empty stomachs. He could call the wind, measure distance and trajectory and follow a vapor trail better than any spotter I'd ever worked with.

Hunger, it seemed, had been a powerful motivator in perfecting his craft.

"Giddy-up, motherfucker! We got movement at 2 o'clock…"

_Finally_

In an instant every cell in my body hummed with adrenaline and I focused intensely on the task at hand. I watched as a group of men exited the compound, our objectives, a high-ranking enemy commander and his second, walking among them.

"Well, ain't that a purdy sight? High Value Target confirmed annnnddd…," he drew out the word as he adjusted the dial on the top of his spotting scope, "on scope."

I pressed my cheek against the stock of my rifle, looking down the barrel and aligning my sight accordingly, "Range to target?"

"832 yards, and walking."

"Wind?"

"Moving east to west… quarter value."

Crawford's voice, the target in my cross-hairs, and the cold metal in my hands were the only things that existed in my world at that moment. _This _was what I was trained for_… this _was what I excelled at…

"On target." I adjusted my scope and held my breath, forcing my pulse to slow as I waited for Crawford's signal to engage.

"Fire, fire, fire."

I gauged the rhythm of my heart, waiting for a pause between beats when I knew my body was _absolutely still_ before slowly rolling the pad of my finger over the trigger. I felt the rifle recoil against my shoulder and waited….

It took three seconds for the bullet to reach my target, for his head to whip back and a spray of pink mist to fill the air.

"Hit."

_One shot, one kill, _just as our Sniper Motto read_. Not that it would have mattered_. From 800 yards I could have _unloaded_ my gun without our target hearing or even suspecting that _he_ was the aim of enemy fire… _until it was too late._

But, I didn't need target practice…_ just a single spent round._

_Kill confirmed. _

I exhaled slowly, scanning the distance for our next objective, "Sniper ready. Target?"

"Captain, 3:00, low crawlin' east towards compound. Fire when ready."

I watched through my scope as our second target scrambled frantically on his hands and knees across the ground, utter chaos ensuing around him as struggled in vain to reach safety.

_He wasn't fast enough_.

My bullet tore through the upper part of his torso, the impact toppling him over onto his side where he collapsed in an awkward, motionless sprawl.

"Hit."

Some of the soldiers left standing ran cowardly for cover, others fired blindly into the desert surrounding them. I couldn't blame the later. There was _nothing_ more terrifying than an invisible enemy and I admired their courage to stand and fight through their fear. Though, they never would have spotted us. We were over a half a mile away, camouflaged and on a series of rolling sand dunes that almost completely obscured our location from view.

"Thank _God_," Crawford sighed. "Let's get the fuck outta' here."

I couldn't have disagreed with that. We were six miles into hostile territory on a mission that our government would deny any knowledge of. "_Getting the fuck out of there"_ sounded like a pretty damn good idea to me.

"Sure hope they're fixin' to send us home soon. Lotta' poor, lonely ladies prob'ly missin,' _Ole' _Craw-daddy somthin'_ fierce _right 'bout now," Crawford chuckled while nudging my shoulder with his own. He pulled the netting off of our bodies, sat back on his knees and brushed the dirt from his chest, "fuckin' sand," he grumbled in irritation.

I watched the scene unfolding before me for a moment longer, scanning the horizon for any sign that our location had been compromised. Crawford began gathering our supplies, singing softly under his breath…

"Ain't found a way to kill me yet. Eyes burn with stinging sweat."

_It happened in seconds... _

A sick feeling twisted in the pit of my stomach and the hairs stood on the back of my neck. Something was coming… something was close. _I could feel it._

"Seems every path leads me to nowhere. No wife and kids 'n household pet."

I was frozen in place, watching, listening for the unseen danger I instinctively _knew_ was there.

"Army green was no safe bet. The bullets scream to me from somewhere."

The slightest movement shifted in my peripheral vision and I instinctively rolled to my back, aiming my rifle towards the disturbance.

A pair of shocked, dark eyes peered back at me through the peep hole of a black, dessert Shamagh, the rest of the man's face and head concealed within the head wrap, making his eyes seem to float mysteriously in the dark fabric.

My gaze didn't linger on his face for long, what caught and held my attention was the AK47 strapped across his chest.

_Fuck!_

He had just reached the top of a sand dune lateral to ours, less than fifty yards away, on foot and alone, his approaching footsteps utterly silent in the loose sediment. He was probably on a random security sweep of the area surrounding the compound, heard the "crack" of gunfire, went to investigate and somehow stumbled upon our location.

The look of surprise in his eyes told me that under the cover of our Ghillie suits he hadn't seen us until we began to move and the sudden shock of our close proximity left him temporarily stunned.

I knew without a doubt that someone wasn't making it out of there alive… _I just hoped it wasn't me_.

He fumbled with his gun.

_I fired mine._

His, sending a spray of rogue bullets into the air before he collapsed into a boneless heap on the desert floor.

_I didn't even see him coming... _

We'd been so focused on our target… _on the kill_, that we had been completely caught off guard. Crawford jumped to his feet and pointed his rifle towards the man's lifeless body, "How the… where the fuck did he come from? _Jesus_, that was _close_."

"Fuck," I breathed, unable to articulate any further. We had been a split second… _a single breath_ away from what could have been our last…

An obnoxious rattling noise filled the air and I looked down towards the source, shocked to see the gun in my hands trembling violently.

_What the fuck? _

It wasn't the closest I'd ever been to death, _not by a long shot_, but, it _was_ the first time that I actually _feared_ it.

Not long before then I _craved_ the adrenaline rush of a high stakes mission and the surge of power and pride that I felt when I completed the task. The medals decorating my dress uniform told the story of the best U.S. Sniper in history. And, I was undoubtedly _the best_. Partially, because I didn't hesitate when a decision needed to be made, I had nothing to hold me back, _nothing to lose_. I gambled with my life with the leisure of a wealthy man with nothing of consequence riding on the draw.

But, everyone knows that the odds are _always_ stacked in favor of the house. Losing was inevitable, my luck would run out… but, the thrill of the hunt was worthy of _any_ consequence.

But, that was before _her_; before I fell in love with a blue-eyed, brunette from the Burg. I realized in that moment that suddenly my life held value that it never had before… and, it made the thought of dying… _of never seeing her again_, absolutely _terrifying_.

_If I had panicked a second longer…_

_if I hadn't sensed his presence…_

_if my trigger had jammed…_

_if he hadn't hesitated…_

IF… IF… IF…

My mind played out every possible scenario and all of them led to a very _different _outcome.

So close… _way too fucking close._

She didn't have _any_ idea how dangerous my missions really were. _Not that I'd ever told her._ What good would it have done for her to have known? Maybe I didn't tell her because I didn't want her to worry. Maybe,_ I _was worried that if she _really_ knew the odds then she'd stop wasting her time waiting for a someday that I knew may never come.

I _could_ have told her, prepared her for the inevitable. But, she thought of me as a superhero, and the way she looked at me… with so much trust and confidence… she actually made me _feel_ invincible, like I could conquer the world.

I wanted to be the person for her_… for us. _

But, I was_ just _a man_; _A man who had_ nothing _to offer her. How could I promise her forever when I couldn't even guarantee tomorrow? I couldn't ask her to wait for me when I didn't know when, or even_ if_ I was coming home at all. Hell, there were times when I couldn't call or even write to her for months on end.

She deserved better than that… better than _me_.

Until my life was my own and not dictated by others, I had absolutely _nothing_ to offer her.

Crawford was uncharacteristically quiet as we quickly covered the body with dry brush and sand, hoping to cover our trail and buy us enough time to escape without further detection. The men we were sent to eliminate were, _to me_, justifiable kills. They were a threat to our people and theirs alike. Their deaths, on the grander scale, would _save_ lives on both sides of the line. But, killing a lowly foot soldier that just happened to stumble upon us was not something either of us took any semblance of pleasure in.

"Him or _us_, ya know?" Crawford mumbled. I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or _me_ with his words but I nodded somberly in agreement. It was _true_, but, taking a life that could have been spared was never easy.

We walked for two days to reach the rendezvous point with the rest of our unit, each painstaking step slowed by the loose sand and nature's punishing elements. Ironically, the worst hours came at night, when the temperature dropped dramatically as dusk descended upon the desert.

We curled up onto the ground, shivering in our sweat-soaked, sand-encrusted clothes, absolute darkness blanketing the blazing white landscape. The wind howled around us, sending sand raining down upon us, the sound cruelly mimicking the soft shower of water.

That place made Hell look like the lush green gardens of paradise. I _never_ wanted to see another fucking grain of sand for the rest of my life.

Our team's food and water rations had depleted rapidly while Crawford and I were away, and restocking was detrimental to our survival. I looked around the barren wasteland and cringed at the thought of another day's journey to our check in point.

If our next rally point was compromised we were literally dead men walking, and at that moment I couldn't imagine a worse way of dying than stumbling deliriously through that blazing inferno. If that happened, a quick death was the only mercy we could hope for.

I signaled for Crawford, Sergeant Cooper and the remainder of the men to stop and rest near a large sand dune, the slop providing fire cover and protection from the wind. The real enemy directly above us was inescapable; the sun's sweltering rays beating down upon us relentlessly.

My head throbbed from the heat, my temples hammering in warning of the threat of heatstroke… _as if I could forget how fucking hot it was_. Beads of sweat trickled down my back and thighs, my clothing chafing against my raw skin with every painstaking step.

I sat several yards away from the group, sinking into the sand, my thighs baking in the heated seat. I could feel my blood pulse through my weary limbs, my muscles shaking from the mixture of dehydration and exhaustion.

I flinched as the sand beneath my hand trembled and rose between my fingers… _What the fuck?_

I snatched my hand away as a yellow scorpion scuttled angrily to the surface, its venomous tail twitching in warning at my intrusion, poised and ready to strike.

I flicked it away from me with the butt of my M16, sending a spray of sand along with it as it tumbled down the slop. I watched as it scurried away across the ground, pinchers flexed and extended, its tail coiled tightly above its hard, segmented body as it burrowed back into the sand.

Dios, I really, _really_ _HATE_D that fucking desert!

In desperate need of a distraction I opened my left cargo pocket, retrieving the small, military-issued Book of Psalms from inside. I flipped it open to the back cover and ran my thumb gently across my Babe's picture concealed within.

A different type of warmth spread through my chest as I sank into baby blue depths. My eyes caressed the line of her jaw, the curve of her full lips, the arc of her dark lashes. My hands ached to twine in those silky, chestnut curls, to skim over the sultry curves of her body, to hold her to me and never let go.

I closed my eyes, imagining the porcelain texture of her skin, the feel of her lips, warm and inviting against my own, the rhythm of our bodies joining together, the only way I knew how to express how much I loved her.

Just thinking of her took me away from that place. She was my escape, _my comfort_.

Our one night together replayed in my mind with startling clarity, the image of her rosy and glowing with need deeply engrained in my mind. I could _see_ her wild curls spilling over her shoulders, _feel_ the cascading locks tickling the bare skin of my chest as she moved above me, _hear _the throaty rasp of her moans, husky and raw with sex. My body responded to the memory, _never_ too exhausted to crave her touch.

My thirst for her was unquenchable.

I was asked once what I would take with me to a deserted island, if given only _one_ item from my previous life to take with me into exile, a _single_ object cherished above all else to accompany me for the rest of my days. The answer to that question rested in my open hands. I carried her picture in my pocket and her love in my heart.

_She was with me wherever I went._

A soldier is allowed to carry very little with him into battle, but the personal items he has are symbolic of his purpose in life and of his greatest incentives to survive...

_She_ was mine.

I repeated this ritual several times during the day and at night before I fell asleep. No matter how beaten and bruised I may have been, no matter how hopeless and defeated I may have felt, one glimpse into those eyes and I was _home_, my will to survive renewed and raging within me.

There were times when my survival had been nothing short of miraculous, having been placed into situations that I _never_ should have walked away from, but my overwhelming desire to return to her, made me capable of near super-human feats, beating the odds time and time again.

For the first time in my life I had something, _someone_, to live for and I would fight until my last breath for one more moment with her.

My mind was still reeling from our last conversation before my deployment. I knew that I had hurt her. Dios, I could feel her pain from thousands of miles away, her heartache mixing caustically with my own. She was a breath away from saying the words that would have changed the course of our lives forever, but I couldn't bear to listen to promises from her that in my current position I _couldn't _possibly return.

I told her once that my life didn't lend itself to relationships, and sitting there then, half a world away, helpless and aching to comfort her, I realized the harsh truth behind my own words. How could I sustain a relationship when I couldn't be there with her, _for her,_ when she needed me the most?

Every mission that I evaded death only increased the odds that the next assignment would be my last, and I couldn't handle the thought of her clutching a folded burial flag to her chest, the last tangible evidence of my legacy as a soldier, _as the man she loved_, grieving someone who willing walked the line between life and death.

_I loved her too much to ask that of her._

I remembered the exact moment that I _knew_ I was in love with her; it was like being blindsided by an unexpected enemy force. It took me completely off guard and shook me to the core.

And, so, I did what any soldier is trained to do in the case of an ambush … _retreat_. I ran like the Hounds of Hell were nipping at my feet.

Within an hour I was parked outside of the airport, watching the planes take off through the windshield of my car, the passengers within being carried away to a new day and a fresh start.

I spent the entire night there, trying to summon the courage to leave, _willing _myself to believe that it was the right thing to do… but I never stepped foot out of the car.

When the sun broke across the sky the next morning I drove back to Haywood, knowing in my heart that I would never be the same. I would love Stephanie Plum for the rest of my life, and I would protect her from myself at all costs. Someone as good and pure as her could have never been meant for someone like me. I resigned myself to living on the outskirts of her life, knowing that I wasn't strong enough to remove myself from it completely. I would serve as her protector, as her mentor, and as her friend.

But, at night when I closed my eyes, she was always there to welcome me home, my woman, _the love of my life._

I rose up to my feet, brushed the sand away from my calves and thighs, and stared off into the distance. Maybe in the future our "someday" would be more than just a dream. A tiny glimmer of hope carried me forward, each step bringing me closer to home.

****Please review :) I'd love to hear some thoughts from everyone _including_ all of the lurkers following my story… come on; you know you want to ;)

*The song Crawford sang above is called "Rooster" by Alice in Chains. The guitarist, Jerry Cantrell, wrote the lyrics in honor of his father who served in the Vietnam War. Cantrell's father was a member of the 101st Airborne, who wore patches on their arms featuring a bald eagle. There are no bald eagles in Vietnam, so the Vietnamese referred to them as roosters. That is where the term, "Snuff (kill) the Rooster," came from.

Jerry Cantrell stated in the liner notes of 1999's Music Bank box set collection, "It was the start of the healing process between my Dad and I from all that damage that Vietnam caused. This was all my perception of his experiences out there. The first time I ever heard him talk about it was when we made the video and he did a 45 minute interview with Mark Pellington and I was amazed he did it. He was totally cool, totally calm, accepted it all and had a good time doing it. It even brought him to the point of tears. It was beautiful. He said it was a weird experience, a sad experience and he hoped that nobody else had to go through it."

Here are the lyrics to the song. You will see that I added the word, "No," to the beginning of the fourth line to make it more applicable to the story.

Ain't found a way to kill me yet  
Eyes burn with stinging sweat  
Seems every path leads me to nowhere  
Wife and kids household pet  
Army green was no safe bet  
The bullets scream to me from somewhere

Here they come to snuff the rooster  
Yeah here come the rooster, yeah  
You know he ain't gonna die  
No, no, no, ya know he ain't gonna die

Walkin' tall machine gun man  
They spit on me in my home land  
Gloria sent me pictures of my boy  
Got my pills 'gainst mosquito death  
My buddy's breathin' his dyin' breath  
Oh god please won't you help me make it through

Here they come to snuff the rooster  
Yeah here come the rooster, yeah  
You know he ain't gonna die  
No, no, no ya know he ain't gonna die

Thanks again for all of the encouragement with my writing :)

Jen


	6. The Cruelty of Truth

_**Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns all rights to the following characters. This story is intended only as artistic exercise and I am in no way profiting financially from it.**_

_**Warning: This story contains adult themes and language. Babe story.**_

_**Intentions of the Heart**_

_**Chapter: 5 The Cruelty of Truth **_

Previously:

Ranger…

I resigned myself to living on the outskirts of her life, knowing that I wasn't strong enough to remove myself from it completely. I would serve as her protector, as her mentor, and as her friend.

But, at night when I closed my eyes, she was always there to welcome me home, my woman, _the love of my life._

I rose up to my feet, brushed the sand away from my calves and thighs, and stared off into the distance. Maybe in the future our "someday" would be more than just a dream. A tiny glimmer of hope carried me forward, each step bringing me closer to home.

_Stephanie's POV …_

I stared across the table at Joe with glazed, unseeing eyes, his voice and the bustling sounds around us fading into a low, droning hum of indiscernible noise. He paused in speech, his eyebrows raised in anticipation, clearly waiting for some sort of acknowledgment to his words. I nodded my head, hoping that I had read his social cue correctly, and that I had given the appropriate response, but I didn't really care enough to ask him to repeat himself.

Pino's was buzzing with activity, the six o' clock rush hour descending upon the cozy, little pizza parlor. I was relieved when we were seated in the privacy of the back, corner booth of the restaurant. The _last _thing that I wanted to deal with was a room full of curious eyes and eavesdropping ears.

_Damn, Burg grapevine._

I picked at the food in front of me, absently tearing the half eaten crust on my plate into dime sized pieces.

I felt like an outsider watching my life unfold in black and white. Like the screening of an old movie, devoid of color and sound, depicting each of my days in lifeless shades of gray. I functioned in a permanent state of autopilot, mindlessly going through the motions… each passing day seemingly as unremarkable and lackluster as the last.

Life without meaning… _without joy_, was a very cold and lonely existence.

Even the things I _enjoyed_ in the past didn't really interest me anymore. I couldn't focus long enough to watch a Hockey Game, and going out with Lula and Connie felt like more of a chore than a good time… even food seemed to have lost its appeal.

_Okay, so I'll admit Tasty Cakes were still damn good, but I was depressed not dead!_

Ranger had been gone for 58 days…

83,520 minutes

6,013,440 _excruciating_ heartbeats …

And, I had felt…_ every … single … one_.

It wasn't the physical separation that hurt the most. Ranger had been _in the wind_ more times than I could count, but this time was _different_. The way things were left between us, the emotional distance that had somehow craved an unbridgeable gap between us, left me with very little hope, and I was at a loss as to where to go from there.

In the beginning, the heartache was so intense it was almost debilitating. It took every ounce of strength that I had to just keep breathing, to keep my heart beating, as if the very will to live had been drained from my soul.

I was overwhelmed with relief when the pain began to subside, allowing me to _at least_ go through the motions of my daily routine. But, the emotions kept fading away, until all that was left was an empty void, a mere ghost of my former self, not really there but not really gone, an apparition fading in and out of reality. I didn't feel hurt or angry. I didn't feel worried or scared. I don't feel anything, but… _numb._

Joe had taken it upon himself to check in with me every day, claiming he was, _"in the neighborhood"_ or that he, _"just needed some company."_ Most nights he showed up at my apartment with dinner in hand, trying his best to seem nonchalant and innocent of ulterior motives.

_But, I knew better._

He would ramble on about his day and fill me in on the latest Burg gossip, seemingly unaware of my inattention. Though, his fleeting looks of concern weren't lost on me. That night he had all but carried me out of my apartment, convinced that a change of scenery would brighten my spirits.

_He was right. _A change of scenery would have brightened my spirits exponentially, but the scenery I _wanted_ to look at was thousands of miles away, probably sporting a black cape while secretly ridding the world of injustice.

I just wanted him there, _with me_, and for things to go back to the way they were before. I'd all but given up hope for anything beyond that, but at that point, if nothing else, I just wanted my friend back.

The problem was I didn't know how I'd react when I finally saw him again. I wasn't sure if I wanted to slap him across his face or kiss it better. _Stupid, Batman._

"Seriously, Steph, if you don't eat something I'm calling your _mother_." Joe's words washed over me like a bucket of ice water, and the world abruptly came into focus.

"_You wouldn't_ …" I breathed, searching his face for any sign of weakness while simultaneously calling his bluff.

"Try me," he threatened, flipping open his cell phone, scrolling through to find the offending number. Apparently, my appetite had gone "in the wind," with Ranger, leaving my pants hanging on much thinner hips. I considered it an unexpected perk to having my heart broken. Joe, however, didn't seem to agree with my assessment.

He pressed a few buttons, put the phone to his ear and I panicked, "OKAY! _Okay_ … Alright! I'll eat!" I shoved the pizza into my mouth, tearing off a huge, un-lady-like bite with my teeth. "There … _happy now_?" I asked thickly, grumbling through the food in my mouth.

"Very," he smirked, snapping his phone shut in triumph.

I sighed with relief and rolled my eyes at him, "That was a low blow, Morelli." I'd rather suffer through the ten plagues of Egypt than endure another round of my mother's _incessant_ nagging. Festering boils and swarming locusts paled in comparison to the wrath of Helen Plum, and lately she had been on a war path, convinced that my current situation was the perfect opportunity for me to switch careers and marry an _appropriate_ Burg husband (a.k.a, Joe Morelli).

The woman was_ insufferable… _and_ persistent… and most likely Satan in the flesh. _

Joe leaned back in his seat, twining his fingers behind his head as he kicked his feet up on the bench next to me, crossing his ankles. He tried to look innocent for a split second, before giving into the smug, taunting smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Maybe, "he shrugged cockily, _"but it worked_."

I froze mid-chew, my eyes narrowing into slits, and the bastard actually had the _audacity_ to laugh at the scowl that crossed my face.

_He was a dead man._

I scooped up the torn pieces of pizza crust from my plate and flung them at him, _one at a time_, pelting him in the chest and head.

"Hey! _What the…_?" he sputtered, his eyes widening in shock. He ducked for cover, leaning over in the booth, lying across the red, vinyl bench to escape the onslaught of flying food.

I leaned across the table, trying unsuccessfully to aim around the barrier between us. _There was a reason I'd always been picked last in gym class. _

"_Jesus_! You've lost your mind!" His muffled voice carried up from below the table, "Are you _done_ yet?"

A slow wicked smile spread across my face as I hid the last piece of ammunition in my hand, just _waiting_ to catch him off guard.

_Come out; come out, wherever you are!_

"You've got a lot of nerve, Morelli!" I growled, "Who threatens a grown woman with their _mother_? And, not just any mother… _MY _mother… You're _damn_ lucky I didn't order the meatball sub!"

He mumbled indiscernibly under his breath, the words "insane, food fight and public" drifting up to my ears. I stifled a giggle as he silently raised a hand above the table, the white cloth napkin that had been lying in his lap now dangling from his fingertips, a universal sign of surrender and a request to cease enemy fire.

An honorable gesture, I'll give him that… _but you know what they say about love and war… besides, I was half Italian, people who coined phrases like, "Sleeping with the fish", "Six feet under", and "Cement boots," _didn't always fight fair.

This was one of those times.

After a few seconds of silence he peeked up from under the table at me, his wary, chocolate eyes peering tentatively over the ledge of the table, "Truce?"

I smiled innocently, flinging the last piece of crust at him, and hitting him squarely between the eyes.

_Sucker!_

I burst into laughter as he flinched in shock, the bread bouncing off of his head and landing in his beer with a splash. He straightened up in his seat, glowering at me in mock indignation, fighting the smile tugging at his lips as he wiped the bread crumbs from his forehead with his rejected peace offering.

"You think that's funny, huh, Cupcake?"

"Umm-hmm," I managed to choke out between bouts of laughter, my hands squeezing the growing ache in my sides as happy tears spilled down my cheeks. "Oh my God… you should have seen your face!"

_I had almost forgotten what being happy felt like…_

It was silly, and playful, and maybe even a little bit childish, but it was … _us_.

_This_ was who we were together, how we'd _always been_ around each other. Being with Joe was lighthearted and fun, it was comfortable and safe. We may have fought like a couple of petulant kids, but all was forgotten the next day. It was beer and pizza and hockey game. It was familiar, it was effortless, it was… _easy_.

_And, no matter what, he could always make me laugh._

Joe shook his head and chuckled, his eyes crinkling in amusement as he watched me struggle for composure, "God, I've _missed _that sound."

He leaned forward onto his elbows, reaching his hand towards my face to wipe the pizza sauce from the corner of my lip with his thumb, "I've missed _this.._. I've missed _you_." His eyes focused intently on my lips, the playful sparkle in his eyes melting into smoldering chocolate pools of want.

I knew _that_ look, I'd been on the receiving end of it a thousand times before, and the intent behind it sobered my mood quickly.

"_So much_," he whispered as his thumb continued to brush tenderly across my skin, gliding slowly along the seam of my lips. He fingers trailed softly to the side of my jaw, his other hand coming up to cradle my face in his hands, holding me in place. He leaned further across the table, closing the distance between us, his lips parting in anticipation...

_I had never felt more torn. _

I really cared about Joe, he was _safe_, he was _familiar, and…_ he_ loved _me. I knew that it was a pivotal moment in my life _and_ in our relationship. Things would never be the same if I rejected him at that moment.

But, it was time to make a choice. A choice that should have been made years before.

I turned my head at the last second, his lips brushing awkwardly across my cheek, missing their intended mark. He rested his forehead against side of my face with a deflated sigh, "_Christ_."

He plopped back into his seat dejectedly, raking a hand through his hair as a heavy silence fell between us. I looked at him, willing him to understand, but he wouldn't meet my gaze.

"Joe …" I finally choked, my heart aching at the sadness and embarrassment of rejection in his eyes. "I'm _so_ sorry, Joe, _but_ … I …" I trailed off, at a complete loss for words. How do you tell someone that's in love with you that you don't feel the same way? I never wanted to hurt him, _especially not like that. _I was flooded with currents of sorrow, regret and guilt; drowning in a toxic mixture of emotion.

I shouldn't have strung him along for so long. It was selfish and I could see how much I had hurt him.

Joe held up his hands, shaking his head, quickly dismissing my words, "_No_ … it's not _your_ fault, Cupcake. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I know it's too soon, and I shouldn't have pressured you. You just need more time-"

"No, Joe," I cut him off mid-sentence, my voice weak and hoarse, but still filled with conviction. "_Time_ isn't going to change the way I feel." My whole body wilted in despair. I was so _tired_ of being alone, of craving love and affection, and yet, there I was ending a relationship with a good man, _a sure thing_, over someone who couldn't… or _wouldn't _love me in return.

Maybe I was a glutton for punishment_… _or maybe I was just_ the world's biggest fool._

He reached across the table, cradling my limp hands between his own strong ones, "Stephanie … _listen to me_, I know you … _love …_ him," he grit out grudgingly, with the reluctance of a man confessing murder, "And, that in your mind you've built up this _fantasy_ about who you think he is, and that someday he'll feel the same way about you."

I flinched at his words and the transparency of my "secret" desires. I looked down at our conjoined hands, unable to bear the look of pity in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Steph, but I just don't think he's _capable_… or willing to have that kind of relationship… of _really_ loving someone. He'll _never_ be able to give you what you need … what you _deserve_."

He paused, squeezing my hands, pulling my watery gaze up to meet his. "But _I_ can. _I WILL_ … I promise. I know I've made mistakes in the past, I know I've taken you for granted, I know that I've hurt you, but I'll prove to you that we _can_ make this work … _I love you_, Cupcake. Just give me another chance and I'll show you that I can be _everything_ you need."

I shook my head sadly, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. "I can't do _this_ to you, Joe," I whispered, sweeping my hand in front of myself as evidence. "I won't ask you to live this way, to accept less than you deserve. As much as it scares me to be alone, I _have_ to let you go … I love you too much to let you settle for less than _you_ deserve."

He cleared his throat roughly, his voice raspy and low, "I … I'll take whatever you can give me. I just … I can't lose you again." He blushed crimson, clearly embarrassed by his pleading words. I could see what it had cost him to say that, his dominant, alpha male personality taking a brutal beating.

I knew then that the truth is often times much more cruel than a lie, but I realized that if I gave him any hope of sharing a future together, he would _never_ move on… and, I couldn't string him along any longer.

"You have to understand that it'll never work out between us, Joe. Because in twenty years I'll still be in love with Ranger, regardless of how he feels about me … _and, you'll hate me for it_. You'll resent me for the time that you've wasted, and for the opportunities you've missed... You're too good of a man to settle for second best."

Understanding flashed in his teary, brown eyes and I watched as he _finally_ accepted the harsh reality behind my words. His devastated expression reminded me of a heartbroken little boy, and for a moment I saw the handsome, rebellious eight year old Morelli that I had fallen in love with so long before.

My breathing hitched and my shoulders trembled with sobs. _How did it come to this?_ "I'm so sorry," I whispered, wanting more than anything to take away the pain that I'd caused him, "I wish I could go back and change things; I would have _never_ hurt you like this."

I know that I should have been embarrassed to break down like that in public, but I couldn't summon the energy to care, my sorrow vastly outweighing my shame.

He stood up, and I expected him to walk out of door, but instead he slid into the booth next to me, wrapping me in his arms. "Shhh, Cupcake. I'll… I'll _always_ love you and I wouldn't change a moment of the time we've spent together. I guess … _it just wasn't meant to be_."

I clung to him, my tears soaking his shirt. "I love you too, Joe." _And, I did. But, it wasn't the right kind of love, and it definitely wasn't enough. _

We held onto each other, each lost in the past we had shared while a future that could have been faded away.

Letting him go was one of the hardest things that I've ever done, even knowing that it was the right thing to do, the finality still stung sharply.

He leaned back to look at my face, brushing the tears away from my cheeks with his thumbs, "You're the most incredible woman I've ever known … _thank you,_ for loving me." He pressed the softest of kisses to my lips, the last kiss that we would ever share.

Kissing him goodbye was more poignant than words could have expressed.

But, in that moment I knew… _it was time to let go_.

Sooo… Thoughts? Comments? Review please : )

_*Finally_ a little (much needed) closure for those two. And, judging by the reviews, I'm thinking there is going to be a few of you sighing with relief! Now, I don't know about you, but I'm ready for our favorite _Man in Black_ to make an appearance… anyone else? ;)

BTW- Sorry for the additional update messages. Somehow, fanfic deleted my other chapters as this one was posted, and I had to correct it. I apologize for that :(


	7. Gluttonously Addicted

_**Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns all rights to the following characters. This story is intended only as artistic exercise and I am in no way profiting financially from it.**_

_**Warning: This story contains adult themes and language. Babe story.**_

_**Intentions of the Heart**_

_**Chapter: 6 Gluttonously Addicted**_

Previously:

He leaned back to look at my face, brushing the tears away from my cheeks with his thumbs, "You're the most incredible woman I've ever known … _thank you,_ for loving me." He pressed the softest of kisses to my lips, the last kiss that we would ever share.

Kissing him goodbye was more poignant than words could have expressed.

But, in that moment I knew… _it was time to let go_.

_Stephanie's POV …_

Those three months without Ranger were an exhausting emotional rollercoaster. As soon as I seemed to be on stable ground, and tried to find my bearings the ride started again, throwing me headfirst into another series of unexpected loops and turns. I'd been through each stage of loss more than once, but there was one stage that had eluded me … _acceptance_.

Losing him was something that I would _never_ be able to accept.

Despite the heartache, I realized something very important during that time..._ I was stronger than I had ever imagined_. I _could_ survive on my own. I didn't _need_ someone to fall back on. I could stand on my own two feet and pick myself up whenever I would fall.

The first step was _really_ letting go of Joe and the safety net that he symbolized. I had clung to our relationship for years out of fear of the unknown and breaking away was a little like riding a bike for the first time. It was scary and I didn't know if I would lose my balance and fall, but I took the risk, and it was worth the ride.

For years I battled with low self esteem and the belief that I _needed_ someone to feel validated and successful in life. But, over those few months I learned that needing and wanting someone were two very different things.

Solely depending upon another person for happiness was like closing my eyes and letting them drive from the passenger seat. It was reckless and I was destined to either crash or end up some place I never wanted to go.

_I was finally ready to control my own destiny. _

_Don't get me wrong._ I wanted Ranger so much that it hurt… but I didn't _need_ to be with him, or anyone else for that matter. For the first time in my life I was ready for a _healthy_ relationship, a new start, and my chance to fly.

However, growing up and facing reality hadn't saved me from feeling… _lonely_. My deep-seeded emotional turmoil had given way to more primitive "needs" … and I was quickly becoming a danger to anything with the proper "equipment" and a steady pulse. Though, my fix was proving hard to find. I tried … _believe me I tried_, but I couldn't help but compare every man I came in contact with to Ranger, and inevitably they came up lacking.

Ranger had made good on his promise to "ruin me for all other men" … and at that moment I hated him for it. _I mean, who does that?_ It was like offering someone a Tasty Cake and after they enjoyed their little slice of heaven, you tell them that they have been discontinued, and that they will have to spend the rest of their life trying to satisfy their craving with Twinkie's or Vanilla Wafers…

_It was just cruel._

I flipped onto my back, kicking the covers off of my legs with a disgruntled sigh. I glanced over at the alarm clock and glared murderously at the obscene numbers. _1:00 a.m._ People are only meant to see those numbers _once_ a day and it is_ NOT_ supposed to be in the middle of the night!

I rolled back over onto my stomach, giving my uncooperative pillow a few good, frustrated punches as I struggled in vain to find a comfortable position.

Ranger had been gone for _97 days_, the equivalent of a thousand tears, a large investment in Budweiser, 3 burnt-out shower massages and a maxed-out Pleasure Treasures account. But _no_ form _self-help_ would ever compare to the real thing.

"Not that I would even consider touching that _stupid_ man if he were here," my inner, bra-burning feminist roared enthusiastically. "_NO_ sex is good enough to put up with that emotionally inept, commitment phobic man!"

Feeling the need to dispute the credibility of that claim, my over-active hormones flooded my mind with images of Ranger … naked, sweat-glistening, muscle rippling, smoldering hot Ranger …

_Touché._

My inner feminist quietly stepped off her soap box and humbly conceded defeat. _How do you compete with six feet of chiseled perfection_? _After all, I could dish out his punishment in bed, right?_

_If he were there …_

_Which he wasn't … the rat bastard._

Thanks to the potency of that panty-melting highlight reel I had enough pent-up sexual aggression to drive an entire city to the brink of sexual deviance ... _Viagra had nothing on me_. At the rate I was going I would probably spontaneously combust before somehow managing to fall asleep.

_Fuck it._

I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and stepped into my fuzzy pink slippers. There was only _one _thing that could appease me at that moment and it had nothing to do with opposite sex. I debated whether or not to change into more appropriate clothes but quickly disregarded the idea. _Who wastes time putting on a bra during the event of an emergency? _My pink polka-dot boy shorts and thin cotton tank covered all of my "goodies" anyway … well, _barely, but desperate times and all.._.

I made my way into the kitchen, grabbed my keys and some money off of the counter, wadded it up and shoved it into the back pocket of my tiny boy shorts as I scrambled towards the door.

Ten minutes later, with the shaking hands of an addict about to make a "score", I pulled into Barry's Food and Drug. I sprinted to the entrance, silently thanking God for their extended hours.

I made my way down aisle twelve, shamelessly drooling over the vast smorgasbord of frozen sin, wickedly decadent words like "custard, gelato and sorbet" making my eyes glaze over and my mouth water in anticipation. And that's when I saw it, the Mecca of slow-churned, creamy goodness … _Ben and Jerry's. _

It was as if the rays of heaven were shining down upon the frosted glass display, illuminating the Holy Grail of divine, caloric temptation. Like a mere mortal in the presence of deity I couldn't help but take a closer look. I pressed my flat palms to the freezer door, my warm breath fogging up the chilled glass, my lips forming into a single, mouth-watering sound …

_"Mmmmmmm."_

Looking at the plethora of orgasmic concoctions I knew that I would _never_ understand why someone would choose plain old vanilla. As a self-proclaimed dessert connoisseur, the lack of flavor was simply unacceptable. It was like _choosing_ to have standard, missionary-style sex with the lights off… it was bland, boring and a complete abomination of something potentially delicious.

Each carton seemed to speak to me, enticing me with promises of cookie dough chunks, gooey marshmallows and caramel ribbons. I may not have been able to eat them all in one sitting, but I was certainly going to give it one hell of a try! That night was going to be a double-fisting, straight out of the container Ben and Jerry's binge fest. Within an hour I'd be basking in a "better than sex", sugar-induced afterglow … _Well, admittedly not better than Ranger sex, but definitely more satisfying than run-of-the-mill vanilla sex!_

_Mmmm…. Ranger…_

My mind veered off course, my body shivering with remembrance of just how _luscious _the Cuban Sex God could be. If they named an ice cream after him it would undoubtedly be called Chocolate Mocha-Latte Ecstasy … _and I would be gluttonously addicted._ That cocoa-colored skin and those dark-chocolate eyes made me want to devour him whole, tasting and savoring every deliciously, wicked inch …

"Mmmmmmm …"

_Damn it!_ I shook myself from my lusty stupor. Damn it! … Damn It! … DAMN IT!

That was _exactly_ how I got myself into that mess! The _ONLY_ men in my life that night were Ben and Jerry! At least they would stay in one place long enough for me to enjoy them! And when I'd had my fill I'd either tuck them into my freezer, inviting them to stay or throw them out with the morning trash. _MY_ rules, _MY_ decisions, _MY_ enjoyment, on _MY_ time frame … Now THAT was the perfect set up!

"Stupid men," I grumbled, wrenching the freezer door open with so much force that the hinges shrieked in protest, the shelves rocking with the movement, sending an avalanche of assorted ice cream pints spilling from the racks, tumbling down upon me. I stumbled backwards, tripping over a stray carton, landing flat on my ass in the middle of the aisle as the remainder of the shelves poured out on top of me.

Apparently, Ben and Jerry didn't agree with our little arrangement …_ typical, self-indulgent, chauvinistic men._

The last container landed heavily on my stomach, earning an ever so attractive "_hummpph_" from my unsuspecting belly. I could hear the sound of footsteps quickly approaching and the humiliation of the moment began to set in. If there was ever a time in my life when I wanted to be invisible, _that was it._

There was a rustle of movement and a flurry of hands pushing the ice cream pints off of my body.

"Are you okay?"

I looked up into concerned blue eyes, and I wanted nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow me alive. Given the option between death and ever facing that kind of embarrassment again, I'd just pray the mortician went light on the rouge.

_Why do these things always happen to me?_

I took the hand offered to me and sat up on the ground, brushing myself off. My rescuer crouched down in front of me, obviously concerned as he waited for my response.

"I'm okay, just, _PLEASE _tell me you didn't see the whole thing..."

Blue eyes smiled blindingly, revealing deep, boyish dimples. "Okay … I didn't see the _whole_ thing," he chuckled.

_God, that voice could melt steel._

"Well that's just great," I sulked. "How long have you been standing there, exactly?"

"Oh, only a few minutes or so, I was just waiting for you to finish so I could take a look. I didn't want to interrupt you, though, for a minute there you looked really … errrr … _happy _with the selection." His dimples reappeared as gave me a knowing smirk.

My face flamed scarlet. _Of course_ he saw me in my sexually deprived haze, lusting over a tub of ice cream like some sick deviant with a frozen snack fetish.

Which I wasn't… _usually._

_My life couldn't possibly get any worse than this._

"For a minute there I was jealous of that damn ice cream. I'd sure _love_ to put that look on your face." He gave me a lopsided grin and a flirtatious wink before his expression turned thoughtful. "Until your expression changed… and you looked like you might start spitting fire," he shook his head shivered. "Now, _that_ I could do without."

Nope … I was wrong. My mortification was now complete. _"Clean up on aisle twelve … Curdling milk and dignity spill in the customer walk way. Clean up on aisle twelve!"_

I scrambled to my feet with as much poise as I could muster, bringing several pints of Phish Food and a carton of Cherry Garcia up with me. "Uhh yeah… Sorry about that. A lot on my mind, ya know? Anyways… thanks for your help." I rambled, no intention of explaining my colossal mood swing to that handsome stranger.

He stood up, bringing his chest up to eye level with me, his tight white tank top straining over the deliciously-sculpted muscles of his chest. My eyes traveled the length of his body on their own accord, noting the red, silky basketball shorts hanging low on his hips and the ornate tribal tattoo wrapping around his muscular calf. He was _gorgeous_, his sun-kissed skin, brilliant blue eyes and honey-blonde hair gave off a laid-back surfer vibe; though, his size and build was much more "Merry Man" than lanky teen. He must have been nearly 6'5, and over 230 pounds of solid muscle …

_OH … MY … GOD!_

_Maybe I'll invite him over … surely he would love an ice cream sundae and a slice of "homemade Plum pie". After all, Blue Eyes and a bottle of whip cream could make for an extremely delectable treat …._

Damn it! _Ice cream _… I needed Ice cream!

"I … I… better go … thanks again." I stuttered, stumbling through the debris towards the front of the store.

"Hey, no problem, are you sure you're alright? Do you need help carrying all that?" He stepped towards me, reaching his hands towards the precious bundle in my arms and I froze. I was completely mesmerized by the rippling bronzed muscles in his arms and shoulders … _Yum! I wonder if he tastes half as good as he looks … surely I could have just a tiny little nibble …_

_ICE CREAM! For the love of God, I needed Ice Cream!_

"No! … _No, no _… I'm good!" I nearly squeaked. If he touched me I wouldn't be able to control myself and committing a lewd act in public wasn't on my list of activities for the night. I rounded the corner of the aisle and all but sprinted to the check-out stand.

_Hallelujah!_

A tall, stick-thin man in his early twenties was leaning up against the cash register with an expression of pure boredom on his narrow, ruddy face, his red hair hanging limply across his forehead. "Thank you for shopping at Barry's Food and Drug," he droned on in a monotone voice. "Did you find everything you were looking for today?" he continued, his lips smacking together as he chewed his gum like a cow chewing cud.

_Charming_.

"Yes, thank you," I replied in a rush, shoving my purchases down the conveyor belt towards him. _Had they always moved so slowly?_

"Would you like to sign up for our Frequent Shopper Rewards Program? You could save -"

"_No_, no thank you. I'm in a bit of a hurry," I interrupted, retrieving a crumpled twenty dollar bill from my back pocket.

"Do you need any ice or stamps today?"

_Sigh._ "No," I grit through clenched teeth.

"Would you like to donate a dollar to the Boys and Girls Club of Trenton?"

_Is this guy serious?_ "Sure," I rasped, pressing my finger to the twitch in my eye.

"Do you have any coupons?"

"_NOPE,"_ I growled, exchanging my intended four letter word of choice for a more civilized response. _Do I look like a fucking coupon clipper to you, Ginger?_

"Paper or plastic?"

_Oh for Hell's sake!_ "I don't give a rat's ass!" I snarled. "I don't care if it's made from the skin of your first born child! Just put the fucking ice cream in the bag!"

"Jesus, _Lady_! What the hell's your problem?" the checker snapped, crossing his spindly arms over his narrow chest.

_Ohhhhh… Bad move, Pal._

In an instant I had a handful of his blue employee smock in my clenched fist, pulling him across the counter towards me until our faces were mere inches apart.

"You don't want to know, but if you don't hurry your bony ass up you'll be paying for _every _mistake of every _worthless man_ in my life … Understood?"

He gulped roughly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he frantically nodded his head in understanding. "Ye … Yes Ma'am."

_Finally! Apparently "Big Red" was a little slow on the uptake. _

He fumbled with my purchases with shaking hands as I slammed my wadded up cash down on the counter. I pried the bag from his grasp, calling "keep the change," over my shoulder as I rushed towards the exit.

_I was so close… I could almost taste it…_

I yanked my car door open and tossed my grocery bags on the passenger seat. I released the emergency break, turned the key in the ignition …

_"Click …clk,clk,clk, clk."_

_You've got to be kidding me!_

I turned the key again, receiving the same result, the engine struggling futilely to roll over. I gripped the steering wheel so hard that my fingers blanched white from the effort as I banged my head into the center part of the wheel. _I just couldn't win._

I wrenched the door open, rounding the corner to kick the front tire like any mature adult would. "Stupid piece of shit!" I slumped down onto the curb, dropping my head into my hands as hot tears stung my eyes.

_God hated me… it was the only explanation for this. _

I heard the crunching of gravel and a deep sigh as someone settled down beside me. "It's just not your night, is it honey?"

"Is it ever?" I sniffed pitifully.

"Car problems too?" Apparently "Blue Eyes" had front row tickets to the Stephanie Plum Show twice in one night. _What a treat._

"I … I just wanted some ice cream," I mumbled pathetically into my hands, feeling desperate and exhausted. He draped a heavy arm across my shoulders and gave me a reassuring squeeze.

"_Shhh_ … it'll be alright. Do you need a ride? It's too late to call a tow truck…"

I nodded my head, my throat too clogged with tears to speak. Walking home in my pajamas and slippers didn't really sound all that appealing at the moment.

"Come on then, let's get you home." He led the way towards his truck, stepping aside as he opened the passenger door for me. I looked up at the behemoth of a vehicle with wide eyes. The "truck" looked like it ate SUV's for breakfast. The tires alone were bigger than my entire car. I assessed the distance from the ground to the cab warily, "Maybe I'd better get a running start …"

A deep, rich laugh pulled me from my musings. "It's okay, Honey. I'll give you a boost." Before I could object he lifted me effortlessly into the truck. He stood on the step bar and reached across my lap to buckle me in. Normally I would have made a snarky comment about possessing opposable thumbs and being capable of fastening my own seat belt, but it had been so long since anyone had taken care of me, and for a moment I allowed myself to enjoy the luxury.

"Thanks for the ride," I muttered shyly as he climbed behind the wheel. I should have been nervous about getting into a car with a complete stranger but despite his size he didn't strike me as threatening and my "spidey sense" wasn't picking up on anything.

_Knock on wood._

"Hey now … no need to be nervous. I won't bite … _hard_." He glanced towards me and laughed playfully at my frazzled expression. _OH GOD …_

"My name's Chase Covington and I'll be your chauffer for the evening, Mrs …?"

"It's Miss … and you can call me Stephanie."

"Well then, Miss Stephanie … where to?"

We made small talk as I guided him through the streets to my apartment, clutching the bag of ice cream in my lap as I bounced in my seat, the suspended cab and high-lifted frame bumping jarringly. His laugh was contagious and I couldn't help but relax in his presence. I studied his profile as the lights from the passing cars washed over his features. He was _really_ handsome, but yet again my mind pointed out my preference for darker hair, chocolate eyes and Cuban features.

I sighed in resignation. _It was hopeless_, no matter how handsome they were, no matter how funny and intelligent and charming they may have been, they're just weren't … _Ranger._

He pulled into my lot and ambled his way out of the truck. He opened my door for me and as I tried to jump to the ground he gently grabbed my hips and lowered me slowly to my feet.

"Thank you so much for the ride. I really appreciate it a lot… maybe I'll see you around sometime." For some reason I felt awkward and unsure of the appropriate goodbye and found myself acting more formal than usual. I turned to leave and he snatched the bags from my hands, matching my stride.

"You don't think I'm going to leave you in a deserted parking lot in the middle of the night, do you? My mama raised me better than that."

We made our way up to my apartment and I was grateful that I had taken the time to straighten up before I went to bed. I opened the door, Chase filing in behind me as I flipped on the lights to the front room. "You can just set those—"

A tingle shot down my spine and I swallowed my words. A dark figure rose from the couch and I jumped slightly.

"Ranger," I breathed both shocked and overwhelmed with relief.

He ignored me, his murderous gaze resting on Chase. I pictured the scene from Ranger's perspective and immediately realized what it must have looked like. It was 1:30 in the morning and I was with a strange man dressed only in a pair of skimpy pajamas … _shit!_

"Ranger it's not-"

He held up a hand, effectively cutting off my explanation as he took a deliberate step towards Chase and the rage in his eyes told me _exactly_ how bad it looked.

I had a feeling it was going to be a really, _really_ long night.

Thoughts? Comments? Bowl of Chocolate Mocha-Latte Ecstasy ice cream anyone? ;)


	8. The Good Samaritan

_**Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns all rights to the following characters. This story is intended only as artistic exercise and I am in no way profiting financially from it.**_

_**Warning: This story contains adult themes and language. Babe story.**_

_**Intentions of the Heart**_

_**Chapter 7: The Good Samaritan**_

Previously:

Stephanie…

"Ranger," I breathed both shocked and overwhelmed with relief.

He ignored me, his murderous gaze resting on Chase. I pictured the scene from Ranger's perspective and immediately realized what it must have looked like. It was 1:30 in the morning and I was with a strange man dressed only in a pair of skimpy pajamas … _shit!_

"Ranger its not-"

He held up a hand, effectively cutting off my explanation as he took a deliberate step towards Chase and the rage in his eyes told me _exactly_ how bad it looked.

I had a feeling it was going to be a really, _really_ long night.

_Ranger's POV …_

My stomach had been in knots since I left the hotel in Washington. On the flight home it was all I could do to stay in my seat, and not rush the cockpit and take over. _Could the pilot fly that thing any slower if he tried? _I doubted it.Itfelt like we were hovering above D.C. for hours, and I was fairly certain that at one point my watch stopped ticking all together. _I would have known too_. I checked the damn thing every twenty seconds.

I'd been gone for months and yet suddenly I felt like I was racing against some invisible clock. I almost lost my mind waiting for my luggage _(how hard is it to throw suitcases on a conveyor belt?)_ and found myself fidgeting the entire cab ride to her apartment. _Fidgeting?_ Fuck, I felt like such a girl. I'd faced enemy rebels with more composure than I was displaying at that moment.

But, I was a long,_ long_ way out of my comfort zone, and I expected I wouldn't be visiting familiar territory anytime soon. I didn't know how to do _this_. I had so much to tell her… _so much to apologize for_, and yet, I was terrified that I was going to fuck the whole thing up by saying the wrong thing… or not saying enough at all. It's not like I'd ever been complimented on my communication skills before. _Dios, this was going to be a disaster. _

The lights were out when I finally reached her apartment. I gave the cab driver his fare and tried to calm myself on the elevator ride upstairs. _I could do this._ I still didn't have the slightest idea what I was going to say, but, "I'm sorry, I was a jackass, let's get naked and married and make lots of curly haired babies," sounded like a good opener to me.

_Dios, it was hot in that elevator._ Or maybe it was just me? Either way I could feel the sweat beading on my brow and my clothes suddenly felt two sizes too small. _What a fucking mess. _I'd never been nervous around a woman before. _I'd never had to be._ But, then again, I'd never wanted anything more than a physical relationship and attracting a woman had never been an issue for me. _This was different._ I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life, to share our _"someday"_ together, and yet I had no experience with that sort of thing. _I'd never been in love. _I didn't have any past experiences to call upon, and the thought of not being "enough" for her was the worst thing imaginable. I didn't realize how nerve-raking it would be to put myself out there emotionally, to expose myself to rejection and the possibility that things might not work out in the end…

_I was never going to make fun of a guy in love again. That shit's brutal. _

I let myself into her apartment and instantly knew that she wasn't there. _Where the hell was she?_ I checked my watch again for the _millionth_ time that night. It was too late for her to be working with the guys, and it wasn't a weekend night, so she wouldn't be out with her friends...

I stiffened and I swear to God, if I had clenched my teeth any tighter they would have shattered.

_The Cop._

She could be at his house… _in his bed…_

I sat down on her couch heavily and put my head in my hands. _What the fuck was I doing?_ I was so tightly wound that I was making assumptions and losing the ability to think rationally. And, I _needed _to _think_, to put things into perspective and get some God damned sleep before I did anything stupid. _I was fucking exhausted. _Mentally, physically, emotionally, I was completely drained and the _last_ thing that I needed was any more stress.

Just then I heard footsteps approaching her apartment, _two sets,_ and I couldn't do anything but stare at the front door. _Who was she with? What would she say when she saw me? How much had changed since I'd been gone? And, most importantly… Who the fuck was she with!_

The door swung open and the first thing I saw was a pair of long legs… Stephanie's legs… _and a lot of them. _She was wearing a tiny little tank top and a pair of slippers, her hair mussed and sexy from sleep.

_She left her apartment like _that_? Why? _

I didn't have to wait for my answer long, because _he_ followed her through the door. _Fuck! _

_She flipped on the lights and pointed towards the counter, "You can just set those-"_

She stiffened and swallowed her words, her eyes almost instantly meeting mine. In that moment she looked so relieved… _so completely happy._ Like she actually _cared_ that I was home… that I was _alive_.

_Bullshit._

Clearly she'd been _occupied _and hadn't suffered the way that I had. Her eyes misted over like she might cry and it only made me angry. _I didn't need her fucking pity._

"Ranger," she sighed and the word nearly split me in two. I didn't want to hear her say my name like _that_, with so much love and tenderness. _Not now…_

For a split second she looked like she would fall into my arms before she saw the look on my face and froze where she stood.

"Ranger, it's not-"

I silenced her with the raise of my hand, unable to concentrate on her words through the blood pounding in my ears, _though, I preferred it that way._ I didn't need to be told that my worst fear had become a reality, because the proof was standing right in front of me … _fucking bastard. _

_Who the hell was this guy anyways? He looked like something that just crawled off of a spray-tan commercial for God's sake. _

_Fucking pretty boy._

The shock of seeing _my woman_ with another man was maddening, rational thought and raw, animal-instinct warring for control of my shaken psyche. _It wasn't supposed to end like this …_

For years our lives have been entwined, every touch, every kiss, every moment, leading to … _this_? I never imagined that life could be so cruel. Was this God's grand scheme? To humble me enough to see the error of my ways, to grant me a moment of hope and clarity and then rip the ground out from under me, bringing me to my knees with a devastating reminder of why I could never be worthy of such a life? Well, if this was God's will, then I was truly humbled … and begging for mercy.

I couldn't even bring myself to look at her, to even acknowledge her presence. The only woman that I had ever loved, the only person that I had ever trusted implicitly… had given up on me … _on us_.

_"What the fuck did you expect to happen, Manoso?" _I scolded myself internally_. "You promised her nothing and offered her even less. Was she just supposed to sit around and wait for the day that you promised would __never__ come? NO relationship, NO ring, NO commitment; those are the promises that you made to her and yet you have the audacity to be shocked when she finally moves on?"_

I repressed the logical part of my brain in favor of more sympathetic ramblings. Even if I never gave her a verbal commitment or expressed my feelings towards her, my actions spoke _loud and clear_. I'd _bled_ for this woman, physically, financially, emotionally … I'd give my life for her, _Christ, I almost did_ and I never thought twice about it. She _had to know_ that I loved her, that I had loved her since the moment I met her … she HAD to know … _right?_

The sight of the man before me told me that I had never been more wrong. I'd lost her … _and I never even put up a fight_. Hell, I_ pushed_ her away. I'd been pushing her away for years.

_Well_, _Congratulations you stupid fucker, you got _exactly_ what you asked for._

My head spun sickeningly as the realization set in … _I was too late_. The image of Sergeant Cooper, desperate and alone filled my mind, the echo of his words piercing through my heart. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat as his words seemed to implement themselves into my own life.

_I was too late… _

In combat I had been captured and tortured mercilessly, my captors searching in vain for the slightest crack in my defenses, a weakness to break my spirit and my silence … but the loss of that woman,_ of her love,_ had succeeded in the task that many others had failed to achieve.

Without her … _I was broken_ and I only had myself to blame.

Though, I couldn't shake the savage desire to hurt the man who was benefiting from my idiocy, to make him pay for every pleasure he had been gifted with because of my sins.

I wouldn't let her go. _I couldn't_… not without a fight.

And I would fight for her_._ _Gladly._ He would know that she was _MINE,_ and he would stand as a testament to anyone who ever challenged my claim to her again.

I couldn't think, I couldn't focus, the intensity of the hurt and rage that I felt at that moment was all consuming.

As a soldier I had been warned to avoid confrontation in the immediate time frame following a mission. Extreme fatigue and mental exhaustion can impair judgment, reasoning and coping skills. Though I held this knowledge it did little to ease my anger or ebb my murderous, primal thoughts. It was too much to bear and I was blinded with emotion.

Every beat of my heart sent a wave of fury coursing through my veins, flooding my vision with a pulsating sea of red. I fisted my trembling hands at my sides, struggling to resist the urge to strangle the life from the unknown man before me. _I couldn't do that to her._ No matter how much I wanted to.

The beast raged within me, thrashing wildly against the moral fibers that bound him. Howling in fury he begged for release, _for vengeance_, to somehow relieve my emotional turmoil through the physical pain of my rival.

I could feel my tenuous hold on self-restraint slipping, like the unraveling of heavy chains and I prayed, _for his sake_, that I was strong enough to contain the fury within.

_Though the thought of him writhing in pain was growing more appealing with each passing second …_

_No. _I couldn't do that to her. She didn't deserve it… but _HE… _

"_He… WHAT, Manoso?" My rational brain tried to break through the haze. "You can't hold it against him that HE was smart enough to make a move while you cowered away like a fucking pansy."_

_I didn't care. _I knew I was being irrational, but I didn't fucking care. _I was hurting too much._ My resolve began to crumble and I took an involuntary step forward, my body tensing for battle. I didn't know who the fuck this guy was, but if he wanted to live to see the sunrise our association would be _brief._ I just hoped that in the time it took him to leave that I didn't cave and give in to my carnal instincts.

As if sensing the impending attack the man dropped the grocery bag in his hands, (ice cream?) pulling Stephanie behind him by her wrist. He stood in front of her protectively … _as if I could _ever_ hurt her_. His actions were unnecessary, deeply insulting and the final straw. A tremor of white-hot rage rocketed down my spine and I took a step forward, closing the distance between us. He was standing between me and _everything_ that I loved. _Not a safe place to be._

"Stop! Ranger, _please_ … Chase, it's _okay_, he won't hurt me, but you … _you need to leave _… _Now_!"

_Chase _…

Hearing that worthless bastard's name on her lips was like a hot iron searing into my flesh, branding me as the scorned lover that I was.

I looked at the man who had taken _everything _from me, my life, my love, my future … and the hatred that I felt towards him boiled over in my aching heart, leaching poisonously into my veins, infecting every inch of my being with pure, toxic loathing.

I could see the confidence… the _challenge_ in his eyes, his defensive stance showcasing his extensive training as a skilled fighter … _Good_. At least she didn't leave me for a fucking pussy. Besides, a worthy opponent is much more satisfying to beat into submission … _or a coma. _Either way.

"No worries, honey. I'm not leaving until _Rambo_ here settles his ass down." _Rambo? _You have no idea_, bitch._ He was _enjoying_ this, baiting me for a reaction. _Keep it up asshole, and this isn't gonna be pretty._

"And _trust me_ … I can take care of myself," he assured her while taunting me, his mouth curling into a goading smile.

_Perhaps a broken jaw would wipe that smug look off of his face …_

Stephanie scrambled around her unnecessary protector and positioned herself between us. She placed her flat palm on my chest, peering up into my eyes. I met her gaze and immediately regretted the decision. The pain of loss and want that lanced through my chest was _crushing,_ causing every muscle in my body to shiver in agony.

_Christ, I loved her. She was meant to be with ME and I had lost her to a guy in a fucking wife-beater._

"Ranger, _nothing _happened," she whispered quietly, her voice gentle but adamant. "I know this looks _bad,_ but it's not what you think."

I couldn't contain the ruthless laugh that escaped me. I mean, I loved her … so much, but I wasn't a fool and I _refused _to be lied to. "Isn't that what you told Morelli about me, Babe?"

Did she honestly think I'd fall for that, for the same white lies that she fed to that _naive_ cop for years? Sure, she always stopped me before _she_ thought things went too far (personally, if we were together and another man had his hands all over her ass, I'd break that shit off… _his hands AND our relationship_) but our relationship was _anything_ but platonic … _and Morelli knew it_. Fuck, _everybody_ knew it.

But this was where he and I differed. While he was content to believe the lie and live in denial, I was a realist and _I knew_ that _any_ man in the presence of a beautiful woman became an opportunist… and Stephanie was _definitely_ an opportunity.

She flinched away from me, her breath hitching as if the air had been physically forced from her lungs. _What? It was true, and she knew it._ Her jaw dropped open in shock and her eyes filled with tears, but the look of guilt that I expected to see never came. The lack of that one emotion was _unsettling_ to say the least. Surely she should have felt some sort of remorse, some small sense of guilt for breaking my heart …

"What the hell are you implying, _Carlos_?"

I cringed at my given name. I'd wanted to hear her say it _so badly,_ but never had I imagined it spit at me like an obscenity. "I'm not _implying_ anything, _Stephanie_," I hissed. "I've _seen_ enough to know _exactly_ what's going on here." _I felt like an intruder. _Here they were in their _pajamas_, probably refueling from their nighttime _"activities"_ and _I _was interrupting them. _Fuck!_

97 days … _She couldn't wait 97 fucking days for me_… and yet, I would feel her loss every day for the rest of my life.

Her azure eyes chilled like frost on a window pane and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Is that right? Well, since you _clearly_ have it all figured out, there's nothing I can say."

I watched the emotions flicker across her face… shock, offense, hurt…

_Why the hell was she looking at me like that?_ Like_ I_ was the bad guy here? How would she have reacted if the roles had been reversed? If she had walked into my apartment and found _me _with another woman? _At least I would have had the decency to be ashamed about it._ And, it's not like she'd never lied about another man before._ Jesus, I'd been the "other man"! _

"I think you've insulted the lady enough for one evening." As if he words weren't bad enough, the fucker actually had the balls to open the front door for me.

Bold … but _extremely _stupid, and he had just given me the excuse I needed to kick his ass.

I stalked towards him, snarling in his face, "You got a fucking death wish, _pretty boy_?" _In that case I would have gladly made that wish come true …_

He smiled that same antagonizing smile, "Not tonight." He leaned towards me, as if whispering a dirty joke to one of his old drinking buddies. "I have a feeling that the next few hours will be very … _very_ much worth living." He looked beyond me towards Stephanie and scanned her body appreciatively. "Thanks to _you,_ anyways."

_Fucking opportunist._

Before I could even register my own actions, I threw him into the wall, slamming his head into the sheetrock with enough force to rattle his teeth. _God help me I was gonna kill the bastard. I was gonna kill him… and then I was gonna spit on his ashes. _

A large figure filled the doorway and I instinctively prepared myself for multiple attackers.

"Hey, Bomber, I was just … _what the hell_?" Tank mumbled with confused, wide eyes as he took in the scene before him. "We got a situation here, Rangeman?" he asked, his hand immediately moving to the weapon concealed at the small of his back.

"Not for long," I growled, meaning every word in the most vital of contexts. "You need something, Tank?" I didn't need any more witnesses and I certainly didn't want any help. I wasn't going to actually _kill _him…I loved her too much to do that. _But, I'd make him wish he was dead..._ See, I could be rational.

"No, man… I just wanted to make sure Bomber made it home okay."

_What the fuck is he talking about?_ I kept hold of the bastard's neck but turned to look at Tank with a raised brow, silently waiting for him to continue.

"I didn't know you were back, or I would've just called you. The trackers on Bomber's car stayed idol at the grocery store for over an hour. I went to check on her… and found her car broken down in the lot.

When I questioned the checker he said that a woman matching her description came in alone and purchased a shit load of ice cream. He also said that she seemed a little … _off_. I came to make sure she was okay..."

_What? She was alone? None of this was making any sense…_

"Thank you, Tank. _Chase_, here, offered to give me a ride home." Stephanie turned to look at me through narrowed, scathing eyes. "Such a nice gesture from a _complete stranger_ … don't you think, Ranger?"

Stunned I released my hold on the "Good Samaritan." _What the fuck had I done?_

"Babe, wait! I'm-" My words were cut off by a crushing blow to my jaw, sending me staggering backwards and blurring my vision. I didn't even spare a glance at my attacker, my eyes glued to Stephanie's retreating form. She marched into her room and violently slammed the door shut behind her. _Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!_

Chase shook his head, clenching and unclenching his, soon to be, bruised knuckles as he walked through the door. "_That_ was for _her_, asshole."

_Good_, because I had never deserved anything more.

****I know that most people don't often leave a review (less than 10 percent of readers actually) but I'd really like to hear your thoughts on this…

How do you feel about Ranger's perspective on Stephanie and Morelli's relationship, and the boundary crossing she often did _with Ranger_ while _they_ were together? Granted, he was often the pursuer, but now that Ranger and Steph have a chance to be together, do you think he has reason to doubt her and her idea of boundaries and commitment? He definitely jumped the gun in this chapter, and has no claim on her, but remember all of the stolen kisses, touches, ect. from the books? At one point Joe walked into her apartment when she and Ranger were _in bed_ together! Yikes! Sooo…do you think (if you were him) he should be worried that she would do the same thing _to him_? Do you think he would have doubts about trusting her and her word? Is it justified for him to feel that way, and though wrong, does it explain (not excuse) his reaction above and maybe his hesitancy towards a relationship with her? Let me know your thoughts : ) They'll each get their say in the next chapter, but this is something I've always wondered about while reading the books and I'd really appreciate it if you took a minute to let me know your opinion. Thanks!

Jen


	9. Reason to Doubt

_**Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns all rights to the following characters. This story is **_

_**intended only as artistic exercise and I am in no way profiting financially from it.**_

_**Warning: This story contains adult themes and language. Babe story.**_

_**Intentions of the Heart**_

_**Chapter 8: Reason to Doubt**_

Previously:

_Ranger…_

"Thank you, Tank. _Chase_, here, offered to give me a ride home." Stephanie turned to look at me through narrowed, scathing eyes. "Such a nice gesture from a _complete stranger_ … don't you think, Ranger?"

Stunned I released my hold on the "Good Samaritan." _What the fuck had I done?_

"Babe, wait! I'm-" My words were cut off by a crushing blow to my jaw, sending me staggering backwards and blurring my vision. I didn't even spare a glance at my attacker, my eyes glued to Stephanie's retreating form. She marched into her room and violently slammed the door shut behind her. _Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!_

Chase shook his head, clenching and unclenching his, soon to be, bruised knuckles as he walked through the door. "_That_ was for _her_, asshole."

_Good_, because I had never deserved anything more.

_Stephanie's POV …_

_I was livid. _I'm talking fire-breathing madder than _hell!_ I slammed the door shut behind me and paced the length of my room._ God damn Neanderthal! I seriously wanted to beat him to death with his own club! _That chest pounding, knuckle dragging, _Tarzan shit_ just proved my theory that men are, _and have always been_, the inferior half of our species. I mean, _really_, how can members of the male gender discover fire, erect pyramids, father the arts and sciences … and _still_ have the emotional enlightenment of a three-toed tree sloth? It was _mind boggling_ and it was a wonder they'd ever progressed past grunting and scratching their animal-skin covered asses! _Stupid, penis-wielding idiots!_

_Who the hell does he think he is anyways?_ He had _no right_ to treat me that way. In fact, the whole mess was his own damn fault! He wouldn't have had to jump to conclusions if _he_ had manned-up months ago, NO, _years_ ago like he should have! And, yet, he breaks into my apartment, _after I hadn't seen or heard from him in months, _and has the _nerve _to pull that possessive, caveman bullshit? _I was going to kill him. Dead._

The low murmur of hushed, angry voices that had been carrying from the living room grew silent and I knew that another unpleasant conversation was quickly approaching ... **IF**_ I let him live long enough to explain himself... _

Just as I was mulling over possible ways to main and dismember a certain _"Man in Black" _my bedroom door slowly opened, and I stifled the childish urge to throw something at the man walking through it. I stood with my hand on my hip, fixed Ranger with an icy death glare and steeled myself for the battle ahead. _I hope you brought your rain coat, Batman, 'cause there's a shit storm on the horizon._

Ranger shut the door behind him and leaned back against it heavily. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied my face intently, _silently_, and I struggled not to crack under the pressure of his gaze. _If he wanted to talk, then HE was gonna have to talk dammit! _

He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor, muttering under his breath in Spanish. His shoulders slumped and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, clearly at a loss for words. He lifted his head and looked up at me with that irritating, blank expression he used when trying to hide his emotions. _I'd had it_. I wasn't in the mood for a fucking staring contest! I kicked off my slippers, flipped off the bedside lamp and climbed into bed with a huff.

I got settled in the covers and tried my best to ignore him, to pretend that I was asleep but my heart was pounding in my chest and it was all I could do not to scream in frustration. I jumped when a warm hand brushed a stray curl away from my cheek and I _instantly_ batted it away. "_Don't_ … _touch… me_."

My inner sex goddess stabbed an imaginary knife into her gut and keeled over dramatically. _Apparently, "Don't touch me," was a little much for her to bear. I didn't care._ That wanton bitch had gotten me into enough trouble for one evening.

"Babe," Ranger sighed, kneeling down beside my bed. My heart clenched a little at the word and I cursed myself for it. _No._ He wasn't getting off that easy! Not tonight._ How could he have said those things?_ _Oh, right... "penis"… how I could I forget? _

I lifted my head off of the pillow and shot him a dirty look that even the dim lighting couldn't disguise. "Didn't get all your cheap shots in earlier, or what?"

"Babe, p_lease_," he whispered pleadingly, "_I'm sorry …_ I don't know what came over me, but when I saw you with _him_ I thought-"

"Oh, I think it's pretty clear what you _thought_, Ranger," I interrupted angrily. His feeble attempt to rationalize his behavior only served to infuriate me further. I already knew how bad it looked, _hell, _I almost swallowed my own tongue when I realized it myself_, but_ that didn't justify his reaction.

He rubbed his forehead and I could feel the frustration rolling off of him in waves. "I know, _I know_… and I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions, but, _fuck_… it _didn't_ look good and I-"

"_Automatically_ assume that I'm sleeping with him?" I sat straight up in bed and threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. "Even_ after_ I tell you that _nothing happened_? _Jesus,_ Ranger… is that what you think? Oh, look, there's a man in Stephanie's apartment... _Clearly, _she's screwing him! _Nice_, Ranger. _Really nice_. So, not only am I a _filthy whore_ but I'm a _liar_ too? You're _unbelievable_… you know that? "

Ranger clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, "_Don't_ put words in my mouth, Stephanie. I _never _called you a liar or a whore. _Never_."

"You didn't have to! The implication was loud and clear... _Is that what you told Morelli about me, Babe?_," I snapped, spitting his words back at him harshly. "What the hell does that even mean? Why would you even say something like that?"

Ranger shook his head dismissively, "I don't want to talk about that right now. _I was wrong._ I'm not going to sit here and make excuses to justify what I said. I fucked up… _badly_, and I'm sorry."

"_No_, Ranger, that isn't good enough! Tell me _why_?" There was a reason that he had lashed out the way he did, and there was no way I was just going to let it slide.

"Babe," he warned, and I could see that I was pushing him beyond what he was comfortable with... _Good. _If things were _ever_ going to work out between us then he needed to learn how to let me in, to break down his emotional barriers and _trust me. No more secrets. Besides, _maybe he should have thought about that _before_ he jumped to conclusions and made a complete ass out of himself.

"Don't you _dare_, _"Babe"_ me Ranger! I want to know why in the hell you would say something like that! You came into _my house_ and insulted me. I want an explanation, and after the way you treated me I don't think that's too much to ask for."

The muscle in Ranger's jaw flexed and his blank face slammed down like an iron gate._ He was shutting me out… again. _

"You know what? _Fine. _Get the fuck out! If we can't even have a God damn conversation then _get out_!"

Ranger leaned towards me until our noses were almost touching, _he was seething_, his eyes glittering dark and dangerous in dim lighting. _Uhh-ohhh… _

"You really want to know why I didn't believe you? Alright, I'll tell you _why_, Stephanie… because, I've stood and shook hands with Morelli _minutes_ after having _mine _all over you. And, I know damn well that you told him "nothing" was going on between us. That's _why_."

The sting of his words was like a sharp slap across my face and I flinched away from him. _Is that what this was all about? Did he think that what happened between us during my "on stages" with Joe was typical behavior for me?_ Even if he did, it's not like I was ever really unfaithful to Joe. Sure, I may have toed the line a little, but I never crossed it... _not completely anyways._ Besides, I didn't owe Ranger anything.

"First of all, we're _not_ together, so I don't need to explain myself to _you_! Secondly, _you_ were the one who kept pursuing me even when I was in a relationship! And, you sure as hell didn't have a problem with "poaching" then! Don't play the innocent here, Ranger. You've been toying with me for years. You're the master of "applying pressure" and even then I _never _cheated on Joe." I defended_. I hadn't…._ not really.

"No, you didn't," he acquiesced. "But, it's all a matter of perspective isn't it?"

_Excuse me?_ "_Perspective?_ What the hell is that supposed to mean?" _Batman? Nah, he was the fucking Riddler._

Ranger leaned forward onto the edge of the bed, propping himself up onto his elbow to hover over me, "It _means_ that I _don't_ share. _Ever. _Under _any_ circumstances, to _any _degree. I'm not as tolerant as that fucking _spineless_ cop and it won't end well for any man who poaches on _my territory_."

_Was this guy for real?_ "Excuse me? Your territory? … _YOUR_ _TERRIOTORY?"_ I shrieked incredulously. "And, _when,_ exactly, did I become _yours_? I don't remember you staking your claim here, Ranger! If you think _for one second_ that I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life because your_ "lifestyle doesn't lend itself to relationships" _then you're_ crazy!_"

The fact that my heart had belonged to him for as long as I could remember felt like a moot point at the moment. Up until then, he had _never_ accepted or acknowledged our relationship and I'd be damned if he gave in purely because of jealousy towards another man. I wanted him to _want me _because he couldn't live another day without me, not because he felt like his manhood was being challenged. _Ughh, MEN!_

Ranger opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off with a wave of my hand, "You know what? _It doesn't even matter._ You've made your stance on our _"non-relationship"_ quite clear. There's _no commitment_ between us and if I decide to bring home Chase or Joe or the _entire Jet's starting line-up_, it's _none_ of your God-damned business!"

Ranger's entire body stilled, the look of remorse on his face quickly replaced with a mask of fierce intensity. _Clearly, the conversation wasn't going in the direction that he had anticipated._ His eyes burned into mine; glittering black and dangerous and I could almost feel the anger radiating from them.

"That's where you're _wrong_, Babe. You _ARE _my business. You have always been and will always be _my business_."

Before I could even register the movement I was hauled up to my feet and pressed flat against Ranger's rock solid chest, "What are you—?"

He fisted his hands in my hair, pulled me to him and pinned me with a bruising kiss, swallowing my words and devouring my mouth. _There was nothing sweet about it._ It was rough and possessive and incredibly sexy. He pulled on my bottom lip with his teeth and I shivered from the sensation.

I meant to push him away,_ really_ _I did, _but I was stunned… and my hands and lips seemed to have their own agenda… _traitors._ I was angry, _furious really,_ but the emotion only seemed to fuel the passion of the moment. I matched his intensity with almost punishing force. It was primal and claiming and so much more than _just_ a kiss… _it was a battle of wills that I intended to win._

He broke the kiss and tugged back on my hair, exposing my neck for him to explore with his greedy tongue. His warm breath tickled the skin on my throat as he traced his tongue up its length to the shell of my ear. "Don't fool yourself, Babe," he whispered roughly, his accent more pronounced through the deep, raspy tenor and the sound made my insides quiver.

I chewed on my lip to keep from moaning and failed miserably when he tugged on my earlobe with his teeth. "You have _always_ been _mine_," he growled, snaking his hand underneath my tank top and gliding his fingers up the bare skin of my back. Kneading, palming, holding me to him almost desperately, like I might disappear from he grasp.

He nibbled his way down my jaw, humming in pleasure, "Since the moment you walked into that diner you've been _mine_." I whimpered and my hands did a little exploring of their own, pulling his shirt out of his cargos and tracing the ridges of his chiseled stomach with my fingertips. _Oh my God, his body…_

He trembled under my touch and groaned deeply, rolling his hips into mine in a tortuously delicious rhythm. His muscles flexed and strained with his movements and I groaned from the erotic masculinity of it. His body felt _so strong_ under my hands, and yet it made _me_ feel powerful_. _Every shiver that rippled down his spine sent a wave of pride through my own. _I loved that I could make him feel that way._ That my touch could make his eyes roll back and his knees grow weak. It was intoxicating and empowering and made me ache to see him lose control. _Mine…_

I slid my hands down his backside and felt him flex into me and it was my turn to moan. He skimmed his fingers up my ribcage and traced the silhouette of my breasts with his thumbs. "_You_ know it," he palmed their weight and I couldn't resist leaning into him. "_Morelli_ knows it," he drew his thumbs over my hardened peaks and I dug my nails into his back. "My_ men_ know it," he skimmed his nose down my throat and across my collar bone, kneeling down before me to pull the strap of my tank top off of my shoulder with his teeth. _Oh sweet Jesus… It was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen._ It was as if he couldn't stand to take his hands off of me for even a second. _I couldn't have agreed more. _

His kissed a burning path across the expanse of skin just below my collarbones, repeating the motion on the other side, _daring_ me to watch him with his eyes. I stood there panting, chest heaving, the thin cotton tank now hanging precariously from the ledge of my breasts.

He looked up into my eyes and grasped my hips tightly, "And, from this day forward I will make sure that _no one_ _**ever**_ forgets it." I stood there shivering, from the cold or his touch I wasn't sure. All I knew was that I wanted more. _So_ _much more_. Tonight, tomorrow, forever…

His eyes raked over me and he growled, "_MINE._ Do you understand? I'm not going to share you with another man_ ever again…_ not Chase… not fucking Morelli… _NO ONE_."

His words ripped open an old, lingering wound inside of me, leaving me feeling exposed in more ways than one. I pushed away from him and crossed my arms over my chest. _I couldn't do this._ I deserved more than just a physical relationship, and I wouldn't let things go any further if that was all he could give me. A few months ago I would have jumped at the opportunity, accepting _anything_ he would give me. _Not anymore._ I wanted it all, and we'd _never_ get there if we didn't work out our problems first.

He looked at me questioningly and I pulled up the straps of my tank top and took another step away. "Then maybe _you_ shouldn't send me back to him again. I loved you, Ranger… and, _you knew it, _and yet you sent me back to him anyway. Don't you dare blame that on me." _What had he expected me to do? Sure, I was the one who made that mistake, but it's not like I had any other option at the time._ _If he had stepped up to the plate, instead of running like a coward, then none of that would have ever happened! _

Ranger shook his head in disagreement, rose to his feet and stepped towards me until our chests were almost touching. "ONCE, Stephanie … I sent you back _ONCE!_ And it's not like you put up much of a fight either," he added resentfully. "I may have told you to work things out with the cop, but _you're_ the one who ultimately made that decision. How was I supposed to know how you felt about me, when you ran back to Morelli without a backwards glance?"

I stared at him with my mouth hanging open in shock. He'd been testing me… Whether he knew it or not, when he sent me back to Morelli, _he was testing me_, trying to gauge my commitment to him with my response. He was testing me… and in his eyes_ I failed miserably._

"Looking back I know it was _wrong, _but I only did it because I thought it was what was best for you at the time. Do you have any idea what that felt like? To watch you crawl back to him time and time again? It was fucking _torture_! I don't even have words to describe how painful that was."

I couldn't help but wince at the look of vulnerability and betrayal in his eyes. _He wasn't a super hero… he was just a man… and, I loved him even more because of it. _But, I'd hurt him … _deeply_, and I was shocked that I had never realized it before. I must have been so wrapped up in my own heartache, so wounded by his rejection that I was oblivious to the toll that it was taking on him. _But, how could I have known?_

"And, you think it was _easy_ for me when _you _pushed me away like that? Because, _it wasn't_. It _killed_ me, Ranger. You have _no idea_ what that kind of rejection feels like. Besides, you never told me that you felt that way. How was I supposed to know?"

Ranger ran his knuckles down the side of my jaw, sadness creeping into his eyes, "I know, and it's the biggest mistake I've ever made. I'll shoulder my part of the blame… seeing you with him… Dios, it was punishment enough. And, you're right… I didn't tell you how I felt. I thought… I thought I was protecting you… but, even then, I _showed_ you in the only way that I knew how. I'm sorry that it wasn't enough. I'm sorry that I pushed you away, but you can't blame me for trying to protect myself."

I never thought that Ranger would perceive my running back to Joe as an indicator of how _our_ relationship would be. I saw it as an escape from the pain … he saw it as a mark of my character and it hurt to realize that some of his resistance towards a relationship was brought on by my own actions.

Exhaustion overwhelmed me and it was all I could do to stay on my feet. "What do you want me to say?" I asked weakly, quickly losing steam. "You offered me nothing, Ranger … _nothing_. I'm not as strong as you are, I _need_ to feel loved, I _need_ to have companionship, I_ need_ commitment, and, I'm _so tired_ of waiting for you to give it to me." I practically wilted where I stood, hopeless tears streaming down my face.

My shoulders trembled with sobs, years of heartache pouring from me. "I can't do this right now, Ranger," I choked, strangled with tears.

He didn't move to leave, but instead wiped the tears away from my cheeks with his fingertips and wrapped me in his arms. A simple gesture filled with such tenderness and support that it threatened to unravel the last threads of composure holding me together. "Babe-"

"_I can't._ Not tonight." _I couldn't take anymore_. He looked at me hesitantly and I pleaded with him, "Please, we'll talk about everything. _I promise_… but I need to think... I just need some time." I couldn't stand anymore heartache in one night. It had been a hurricane of emotion and the aftermath was too daunting to take on.

He cradled my face and nodded, "Okay_, _but_ soon."_ He scooped me up into his arms, laid me on the bed gently and rolled me onto my side, climbing in behind me and pulling the covers over us both. He held me while I sobbed, his hand rubbing up and down arm in slow, soothing strokes.

_We'd hurt each other so much_; the intentions of our hearts masked by our own insecurities. I was relieved that he didn't speak, that he didn't push me for answers that at the moment I didn't have. It felt like hours before my tears finally ran dry, purging my heart of the burden that it had carried for far too long. My heavy eyes slowly drifted shut, and I willingly gave into sleep, for just a moment, letting the man beside me ease the ache in my chest.

Did I do Steph and Ranger's thoughts and feelings justice? I hope so, because that was completely emotionally exhausting to write. *sniff* I need some happy ;) Do you think those two deserve an HEA soon, or should they have to work a little harder for it? Let me know, it may change the course of the story…

xoxo

Jen


	10. WakeUp Call

_**Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns all rights to the following characters. This story is **_

_**intended only as artistic exercise and I am in no way profiting financially from it.**_

_**Warning: This story contains adult themes and language. Babe story.**_

_**Intentions of the Heart**_

_**Chapter 9 Wake-Up Call**_

Previously:

Stephanie…

_We'd hurt each other so much_; the intentions of our hearts masked by our own insecurities. I was relieved that he didn't speak, that he didn't push me for answers that at the moment I didn't have. It felt like hours before my tears finally ran dry, purging my heart of the burden that it had carried for far too long. My heavy eyes slowly drifted shut, and I willingly gave into sleep, for just a moment, letting the man beside me ease the ache in my chest.

Stephanie's POV…

"Knock … knock, knock, knock."

I startled awake, groggy and disoriented from the lingering haze of a deep sleep. I looked around my bedroom and instinctively reached out beside me, finding nothing but vacant space and cold, empty sheets. _I hadn't even felt him leave._ The pang of worry and sadness that shot through me was almost crushing. _Ranger was gone_… _again._ I don't know why it hurt me so much; he was the _Man of Mystery_ after all. But, I couldn't help but feel abandoned and maybe even a little rejected by his absence. _Why would he leave? _At the _very least_ he could have said goodbye and not left me wondering what the hell was going on. A million foreboding thoughts ran through my mind and I groaned, burrowing back into the covers. _It was way too early to deal with that shit, especially with a raging "emotional hangover." _

"Knock, knock, knock."

I scrunched my eyes closed tightly, throwing a pillow over my head in an attempt to drown out the obnoxious noise. "Go away!" I growled my voice hoarse and thick with sleep.

"Knock … knock … knock, knock … knock … KNOCK, KNOCK!" _Well, isn't that cute… someone has a sense of humor so early in the morning. _

I clenched my teeth and imagined snapping every finger on the offending hand into unnatural, pretzel-like angles. Now _that_ was worth getting out of bed for … _almost_. "Morning people"… _bunch of stark raving, lunatics, if you ask me_. There is _NOTHING_ more annoying than someone who jumps out of bed, whistling "Zip-A-Dee-Do-Da" and smiling like a deranged mental patient before the crack of dawn. You know the type, the people who skip all the way to their shitty nine to five jobs with sunshine pouring out their asses and daisies blooming under their feet. _It's not right._ In fact, it's unnatural and downright creepy…. fuckin' _Annie Wilkes_ creepy.

Seriously, though, anyone who smiles like that before noon _has got_ to be hiding something... probably in their freezer… in the shape of human body parts.

"KNOCK … KNOCK … KNOCK!" _Oh my God, what a persistent bastard! _

I grudgingly peeled open one gritty eye and blinked the sleep from my vision. I had no idea what time it was but the faint light peeking through the windows told me that it was _far_ too early for my liking. _What is wrong with people? Someone better be dead!_ I hung an arm over the side of my bed, and draped it across my nightstand to turn the alarm clock towards me ... _7:00 a.m. … _only four hours of restless sleep. _If someone wasn't dead already, they were gonna be!_

"KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!"

_Fuck! I'm up, I'm up already! _ I threw my legs over the side of the bed, stomped drowsily into the living room and wrenched the front door open. "_WHAT_ in God's name is …"

My unrelenting visitor froze in shock, a pastry bag dangling from his clenched teeth, a cardboard beverage tray in one hand, and the other clenched into a fist, frozen in mid-air.

"Chase?"

"Goo moring," he grumbled thickly through the paper bag in his mouth.

My anger quickly fizzled as the sweet, fresh-baked scent of Boston crème donuts assaulted my senses. _I mean, I could always kill him later_… preferably _after_ breakfast. _After all, it'd be a damn shame for him to bleed all over such a delicacy._

I snatched the pastry bag from his mouth and waved him inside. _He was damn lucky he had good taste or I would have slammed the door in his face_. He hesitated, craning his neck to the side to look into the apartment behind me.

"He's not here," I answered his unspoken question as I flipped on the dining room lights, hoping my voice didn't sound as bitter as I felt.

Chase strolled through the door, kicking it shut behind him. "_Damn_… and, here I thought I was gonna' stir up some more trouble," he winked and my stomach plummeted. _Oh my God_… that was the _last_ thing I needed.

He must have read the emotion on my face because his smile faltered, "Hey… I was only kidding. You know that_ right_? I didn't want to cause any more problems…I just… I couldn't sleep."

_Well, now that makes two of us._ "Oh, yeah? So, you thought you'd just come over here and drag my ass out of bed to suffer with you?"I asked, only half teasing. _Boston crèmes or not, it was still seven in the morning for Pete's sake! _I grabbed a couple of napkins and motioned for him to sit at the table.

He shifted from foot to foot and blushed adorably, "Well, I… _yeah_… sorry about that. I just couldn't wait any longer." He pulled the cups out of the cardboard carrier and set them on the table. "Actually, I was up all night worrying about you."

I gave him my best fish impression and fought the sting of tears threatening my eyes. Perfect. _Just what I needed._ Someone to be _nice_ to me when I was already emotionally exhausted. _I'd be a basket case in no time._

He let out a puff of air and rubbed the back of his neck, "And, I wanted to say that… I'm _sorry _about last night. I shouldn't have left until I knew you'd be okay, and I was scared that… he might… but, _he_ _didn't_… I mean, you're alright… _right?"_

_Huh? Of course I was alright._ "What? _No!_ No, don't be ridiculous," I waved off his needless concern, "That's sweet, but you didn't need to worry. He would _never_ hurt me."

Chase raised an eyebrow and looked at me skeptically, his eyes conveying concern, "I don't know if I'd agree with _that."_

_What was that supposed to mean?_ "Chase, _seriously_, he didn't lay a finger on me." _Well… not in that way, anyways._

Chase nodded but his expression was still grim. "That's good. I mean, it's way to fucking early for a one man headhunt."

I snickered. _Good luck with that._

"But you don't need to hit someone to hurt them, honey. _You know that_… I saw the look on your face last night. Don't deny it, _he hurt you_."

_Yes. He had… but, I'd hurt him too._ I sat down at the table and rubbed a hand over my face tiredly. _How do I explain this?_ "He's normally not like that. Just bad timing, ya know? Things between Ranger and I are… _complicated_."

"Ranger?" Chase snorted, sliding into the seat next to mine, "You mean that _wanna' be_ "Rambo" lookin' guy's name is _Ranger_?"

_Wanna' be? If he only knew_. I was too tired to argue that on any given day Ranger made Rambo look like spandex-clad Richard Simmons, so I merely rolled my eyes and said, "Ranger's not a "wanna-be" _anything_. Believe me, he's the _real deal._ You're lucky he didn't ship you off to a third world country in a crate _(or wors_e_)_, besides, that's just his nickname."

Chase peered at me over the rim of his coffee cup, "Army?"

"Something like that," I shrugged. _Army… Superhero Justice League, whatever. _

He kicked back in his chair and smirked. "Well, _Ranger_ could have tried, but I told you last night that I can take care of myself." He extended his fingers out in front of him, curling them slowly into a fist. I gasped and reached out to touch his hand, gingerly tracing the angry, bruised flesh. _What happened?_ "And, if my sore knuckles are any indicator of how his jaw's feelin' this morning … he's in a _whole world_ of hurt."

_Wait … WHAT? _

"You … punched … _Ranger_?" I stuttered. _Oh my God! He was dead man!_ Panic bubbled in my stomach and I felt the irrational urge to hide Chase in my closet. _Why would he do something so stupid? _

Chase, however, didn't seem to share in my concern. "Yep," he drooled, popping the "p" with a self-satisfied grin. I stared at him slack-jawed and wide-eyed, too shocked to respond. He held his fist up to his face to inspect the damage, brushing the thumb of his opposite hand over his bruised knuckles. "It was one _hell_ of a shot too… a fuckin' haymaker," he mused proudly. "I have to give the guy credit though, he's one _tough _son of a bitch … I've never seen a man take a punch like that and stay standing. Gotta' respect a man like that… even if he _is_ an asshole."

"Have you completely lost your mind?" I shrieked, nearly knocking over my coffee with my wildly, flailing hands. "You don't just go picking fights with people like_ Ranger_! You have _no idea_ what he's capable of." _Believe me, buddy, it ain't pretty!_

"Easy," Chase laughed, protecting my coffee cup from my hands. "_Pickin' fights_ is what I do best, honey. I'm a _boxer._ Brawling with _big, scary guys _with big, scary attitudes is what I do for a living. And, I didn't go "_picking a fight" _with Rambo."

"Oh really?" I glared in challenge. While I knew he had been protecting me, it didn't escape my attention that he had enjoyed the encounter a little too much. _Ughh… Men._

"Oh, come on. _I didn't_," Chase pleaded his case, holding his hands up defensively. "Now, I'll admit I may not have_ discouraged_ a fight from happening … _but where's the fun in that_?" he shrugged nonchalantly.

FUN? Oh, he'd think_ fun_ alright when Ranger caught up with him. I'm sure being hunted like and animal and skinned alive equates to all sorts of _**fun ..**_. _Idiot!_

"Besides, _he_ was the one looking for a fight last night."

_Fight?_ Not so much. Ranger had been looking for a _blood bath._

"What's the deal with you two anyways?"

_Well, if that ain't' the million dollar question._ "We're… He and I… it's… _I don't know_," I answered lamely, but it was the truth. I didn't know.

"Ouch," Chase nodded, "I've been there… it… _sucks_."

"Yeah, no kidding." I agreed. He was right. It did suck.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a sip of my coffee. _Oh, yuck!_ I tried to keep my face impassive but I couldn't help but scrunch up my nose in disgust at the bitter aftertaste. _Black… really? _ No sugar? No cream? That's like cake without frosting or a bagel without cream cheese… _it's criminal._

Chase chuckled and nodded towards my cup, "Too strong?"

No, no… I _like _to drink motor oil... really. "Just a little," I admitted. I didn't want to hurt his feelings but there was no way I could choke that stuff down.

He rummaged through the paper bag and frowned, "they didn't give me any sweetener."

"That's okay," I said, pushing my chair back and walking towards the fridge. "I've got some in here somewhere." I bent down, sifting through the clutter of condiments to find what I was looking for.

"That's… _good_," Chase breathed huskily and I shivered, the cool refrigerated air caressing the exposed skin of my upper thighs. _Shit!_ I whipped around to face him, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as I tugged uselessly at the hem of my way too boy shorts. _Clearly I needed to invest in more appropriate night wear._ His eyes immediately dropped to my breasts, the chilled air puckering my nipples, straining them teasingly against the thin cotton tank top.

Chase groaned, pressing his flat palms tightly against his eyes, a sexy, tortured growl rumbling deep within his chest. "_God help me_ … I'm _really_ trying to be a gentleman here, butyou're not making it easy for me!"

"Well, you didn't have to look!" I fumed defensively, crossing one arm across my chest and fidgeting with my shorts with the other. _Geez! It's not like I'd been expecting company!_

Chase peeked at me through his fingers and chuckled softly, the deep, raspy tenor trailing goose bumps down my arms, the kind of naughty laugh that makes you lick your lips in anticipation. "Honey, I'm a _man_ and when an _extremely hot_, half-naked woman bends over in front of me, I _have_ to look … _really_ … I can't help it." He smiled impishly; his dimples making his handsome face appear even younger, sweeter and deceivingly innocent somehow.

I couldn't help but snicker at my own thoughts. _Innocent my ass! _I wondered how many women had fallen in love … and _into bed_ with that man because of that smile.

"Though, normally I'm not as obvious about it is I am right now. There's just _something_ about you … I can't really explain it, but you're just so … _tempting_."

"_Right,"_ I snorted incredulously, "Bed-head hair, smeared make-up and an old, ratty pair of pajamas … _really tempting, _I'm sure." _Was he blind?_

"You are," he agreed seriously. "You're incredibly sexy … especially with your hair all tousled and wild like that … it makes me wonder how it got that way. And, _those legs_ …" he growled in approval, his words trailing off as he brazenly enjoyed the view.

I blushed furiously and continued to fidget with my clothes, my knees almost buckling as his teeth sank into his pouty bottom lip. He was about as good at hiding his emotions as I was, every wanton thought and shameless desire clearly visible in his azure eyes, and right then his thoughts were _interesting …_ to say the least.

I scampered back towards my seat self consciously, desperately wanting to hide myself from view_. Fuck. I needed to get laid. Where the hell was Ranger? _I set the creamer on the table and sighed. _I want him naked and chained to my headboard, dammit! _

My steps faltered as I looked up at Chase, his eyes smoldering dark and predatory as he leaned towards me, wrapping his big hands tightly around my hips and pulling me forward to stand between his knees, his warm breath tickling the shell of my ear. "_Mmmm_ … I like the sound of that. Though, I'll warn you, I'm not easy to restrain."

Oh my God! Oh My GOD! OH MY GOD! I must have said the last part out loud and he thought… _shit!_ _I could just rip out my own uncontrollable, flapping tongue! Wearing a muzzle in public had to be less embarrassing than that!_

I squeaked in response, my senses assaulted with his masculine, earthy scent. He was _huge_, even seated his body wrapped deliciously around my own, swallowing me in his embrace. I was too stunned to move, my brain temporarily short circuiting. _What was he doing?_ He nuzzled my neck, breathing me in, his fingers skimming gently up the sides of my body, sending tingles raining down my skin. My hands splayed against pecs, feeling the taut muscles ripple under my touch….

No! _I couldn't do this._ I didn't know if Ranger and I would ever amount to anything but I'd be damned if I lost my chance over a meaningless fling.

I pushed roughly against Chase's chest, stumbling out of his grasp and into the wall with a "thud."

"I … umm… I, I mean _we_…" I stuttered eloquently.

Chase raked a hand through his golden hair, releasing a slow, shuddering breath. "No, no, _you're right."_

I nodded, the heat rising in my face. He stood abruptly, grabbing the pastries off of the table and reaching out to grab my wrist.

He pulled me towards the door and I stumbled behind him. "Where are we going?" I sputtered.

"Field trip," he responded, his voice still deep and husky. "You can eat in the car while I drive." He turned to wink at me over his shoulder, his lips curving into a mischievous smile. "Don't worry … it'll keep my hands occupied." _Oh, good Lord…_

"Wait!" I shrieked, tugging my hand out of Chase's grasp. "I can't go out in public like_ this_!" I said, waving a hand down the front of my body, showcasing enough skin to drive my mother to drink … _again._

Chase's eyes traveled the length of my body, "You didn't mind wearing that to the grocery store last night… "

"Well …" I huffed indignantly, planting my hands on my hips and narrowing my gaze, "_that_ was… that was an _emergency_."

"An _emergency_?" Chase chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "What kind of an _emergency_ calls for a one a.m. ice-cream run in your underwear?"

"Wha … No! _Excuse me_? I was NOT in my underwear!" I stammered, defensively. "Those were boy _shorts! SHORTS _not underwear… BIG difference there, buddy."

Something wicked flashed in his eyes and sighed knowingly, "_Awww._ You need some _sugar,_ Honey?" He took a deliberate step towards me, a predator stalking his prey. "I got a bit of a sweet tooth myself this morning..."

_Whoa… down boy! _

"Listen … I'm gonna' go change my clothes," I squeaked, backing up. "I'll just be a second. _Try_ to behave yourself, will ya?"

Chase hung his head and sighed dramatically, "So, _first_ you tell me that I can't touch you … and_ now_ you're getting dressed so that I can't even_ look_ at you either?"

I rolled my eyes and walked towards my bedroom, "I'm sure it's a real hardship."

"You're a cruel woman," Chase teased from behind me and I laughed. _Big baby._ I turned to reply, only to catch him staring intently at my ass, his gaze hot enough to melt through my pajamas.

_Good grief!_ I scurried quickly into the bedroom and shut the door behind me. _That man was trouble._ All the right kind of trouble, but _trouble_ all the same. I dressed as quickly as I could, feeling self conscious even through the barrier between us. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a hoodie over my pajamas, and decided against looking in the mirror. I didn't need visual confirmation to know that my hair was snarled into something that resembled a bird's nest. _I'd rather not know._

"Where exactly are taking me anyways?" I asked as I walked back into the front room.

"Well, now that it's light outside, I thought I'd take a look at your car," Chase shrugged. "That's actually part of the reason I came over this morning. I was assuming you'd need it soon and didn't want to leave you stranded…"

_Oh, shit! My car!_ "Are you any good with cars and all that… _stuff?"_ I asked skeptically. I mean, I appreciated the offer, but the guy looked more like a surf instructor than an auto mechanic.

"Honey, I'm _good_ with lots of things." he drawled.

_Oh, I'll just bet you are_, my inner slut cooed. _What the hell…_ _who let her out of her cage?_

I shook the little hussy out of my thoughts "Yeah, well, we'll see how _good_ you really are. I don't know if there's any reviving the old girl," I sighed, after all, she'd had a good run…_ for my standards at least. _I grabbed my keys and purse and walked through the door that Chase was holding open for me.

"Is that a challenge, Miss. Plum?" he whispered in my ear as I passed by him. "Because I'll tell you right now, I've never put my hands under the skirt of _anything_ and _not_ left her purring."

_Review, please : )_

Well… _you asked for it!_ : ) While the reviews were divided, most of you wanted a little more drama on the way to Steph and Ranger's HEA. It won't be too long though… (at least not if Ranger has anything to say about it ;)

I'm sorry that I wasn't able to respond to last week's reviewers individually. I apologize. I had to take my toddler to a hospital out of state for testing and a bone scan and simply haven't had the time. So, I hope you'll all accept a group thank you from me this week. : )You're all amazing! I really do appreciate the encouragement!

On a lighter note, I was also the Maid of Honor at a friend's wedding last week. My dress (of course) was homemade, metallic, satin… Yep… _that's right_. I looked like an oversized Hershey Kiss! LOL! And, you know I just _can't wait_ for the wedding pictures to hit Facebook! Hahaha! FML!

Have a great weekend everyone!

_Jen_


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